A Mystery Solved
by whereverwithyou
Summary: After the Doctor casually mentions his friendship with the Grand Duchess Anastasia of Russia, whose death was surrounded by secrecy and enigma for nearly 100 years, Amy presses him to learn more about his involvement and about what really happened.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I have been "working" on this fanfiction, for lack of a better term, since 2008, when I watched the movie _Nicholas and Alexandra_ in a history class and laughed about Rasputin being played by Tom Baker. I then jokingly thought to myself "Well, what if the Doctor was actually there AS Rasputin?" Five years, a never-ending hole of research, multiple plot changes, a declaration of a History major, and a thesis on Russian history and the Imperial Family later, and here we are. In the meantime, Big Finish has come out with a similar idea, but I've been working on this story so long that I feel like I can't just abandon it. Even though adapting my original enthusiastic ideas to greater historical accuracy has perhaps made it a bit lumpy in parts - I'll let you be the judge of that.

I'm hoping the end result is something interesting to both Doctor Who fans who know nothing about the story of Anastasia and her family, and to Romanov buffs who might not know much about Doctor Who. (Or people like me who are crazily involved with both)

A MYSTERY SOLVED

Chapter One

_Someone's knockin' on my kitchen door__  
__Leave the wood outside, but__  
Al__l the girls here are freezing cold__  
__Leave me with your Borneo, I said__  
__I don't need much to keep me warm…  
_ - Tori Amos, **Cloud on My Tongue**

Amy and the Doctor walked casually around the TARDIS console, listening to its gentle whirring as it piloted them towards their destination.

"Wait, you've met Anastasia?" Amy asked, interrupting one of the Doctor's ramblings. "_The_ Anastasia? The mysterious Russian princess?"

"Did more than meet her. She traveled around in my TARDIS for a few years," the Doctor said, grinning.

Amy stopped and crossed her arms. "Okay, how is that possible?"

"Don't look so surprised, Pond," the Doctor replied. "I know everyone, remember?" he said cockily.

"But don't you read the news?" Amy asked. "They found her body a few years ago, in a mine shaft or something…"

"Actually, they only found a few remains in a mine shaft. Most of the family was found in a mass grave, while Anastasia – or Maria, if you are so inclined – was found along with her brother at another site." He stopped spinning around the TARDIS console for a minute to look back at Amy. "See, I do read the news. And, it's more complicated than that."

"Well, tell me," Amy demanded.

"Nah, too long of a story," the Doctor replied, going back to flipping switches.

"I don't care, I like stories," Amy said. "Especially Anastasia. I always thought it would be so cool to find out you're really a princess…"

"She always knew she was a princess, Pond, her father was one of the most powerful men in the world. We're not talking cartoons here," The Doctor said. "And anyway, we've got places to go, things to explore. No time for stories."

"I don't care where we're going, this is more interesting," Amy insisted again. "And if you're so bent on traveling, why don't we just go and see her?"

"What?"

"Why not? There's an adventure for you."

"I've already screwed up that timeline enough," the Doctor explained. "Anastasia is an important figure in history that cannot be tampered with." After a few seconds' pause however, he muttered to himself, "Though, my tampering is what made her an important figure, I suppose."

"See, you do want to tell me about this!" Amy continued. "Let's just see her, yeah? Then you can fill in all the details."

"Alright, fine!" the Doctor said, turning back to the console. The TARDIS lurched suddenly, almost knocking Amy and the Doctor off their feet. "Mid-course navigation change, the TARDIS never likes those," the Doctor muttered. "But, Pond wants to go see a Russian princess, so the planet Nebrusa will have to wait." He turned back to Amy. "It really is a nice planet, you know. They have carnivals that put Brazil to shame…"

"Yes, well, we're pushing it back," Amy said. "Besides, can't we find some sort of festive event in Russia?"

"Wasn't really a festive place during Anastasia's lifetime. Mostly wars and revolutions, I'm afraid," the Doctor commented. Just then, they stopped moving. "Ah, and out of that lifetime, we have honed onto…" The Doctor looked at his scanner. "1918?" he said, perplexed. "Well that's rubbish, that's the end."

"Who cares? We're here," Amy commented, heading towards the door.

"Hang on," the Doctor said. "If I remember, in 1918 Anastasia was being held under house arrest with her family in a palace in the Crimea."

"So?" Amy asked.

"So…" the Doctor rummaged around though some compartments. He pulled out a red fez and stuck it on his head with a grin. "Crimea's close to Turkey."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Come on, fez man," she said, leading the way.

"Oi, what about your husband?" the Doctor asked.

"He's still sleeping off whatever it was you gave him to drink on that last trip," Amy answered. "Besides, he doesn't care about this girly princess stuff anyway."

"Ah yes. Sapsurian cocktails can knock out any species if you're not used to them. He really shouldn't be embarrassed," the Doctor said.

"Well, I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing that whenever he finally wakes up," Amy commented. "Now come on." She opened the door of the TARDIS, and was instantly hit with a blast of ice cold air. The Doctor poked his head out.

"Ah yes, I remember now," he said. "It was the aunts, uncles and cousins that went to the Crimea. Anastasia and her immediate family were held somewhere else."

"Where?" Amy said, the word coming out as a whisper through her chattering teeth.

"Tobolsk, Siberia," the Doctor said, stepping out of the TARDIS. "Come along, Pond."

"But it's freezing!" Amy protested, still standing in the doorway.

"Freezing? It's spring here!" the Doctor chided. "Come on!"

Amy rolled her eyes again as she stepped out in her short skirt onto the crunchy, half-melted snow.

They only walked a short distance before the Doctor stopped again. "Here you are," he said.

Amy looked up. "I don't get it, it's just a building with a big fence round it," she commented. "Is she in there?"

"Yep. Her, two of her sisters, her brother, and some loyal retainers. Her parents and her other sister have been moved away by this point."

"Moved where?"

"To the House of Special Purpose," the Doctor said. Amy noticed that his voice had lost its cheery explorer tone. "Where they will all be killed."

"Except Anastasia," Amy said.

The Doctor turned to her. "Now how do you know that, miss they-just-found-her-body?" he asked, intrigued.

Amy shrugged. "I dunno, just guessing. I mean, there's all these stories that she survived, and if she traveled around with you for a while, I don't see how you're not connected."

The Doctor smiled. "Very good, Pond. Now, back to the TARDIS. We'll have the whole story waiting for us."

"But we didn't even get to see her, that's not fair," Amy protested.

"No, it's not, but what also wouldn't be fair is getting gunned down by the guards surrounding that building due to a whim of yours," the Doctor pointed out. "Into the TARDIS, I've got a better idea."

"Oh, do you now?" Amy said, turning around. "I'll be waiting," she said as she walked off towards the blue box.

The Doctor lingered for a minute more, looking up at the imposing façade and the tall fence surrounding it. "I'm sorry I left you there for so long," he said quietly. "I know how terrible it must have been." He swallowed. "But at least you were with your family. And remember, I won't abandon you. I always come back." He gave the building one last glance over, and then walked off just as he started to see a shadow moving within.

Inside, Grand Duchess Olga Nicholaevna was writing a letter to her mother. The entire family had been very anxious since they'd been separated, wondering what might happen to the other half while they were forced apart. The letters were their only way of knowing that everyone was still alright.

_My dear little Mama,__  
__Since your birthday, we have had no news of you. I mean, that's why we're waiting for some news of you impatiently. And you, do you not receive our letters? We sent, all in all, two telegrams. I'm writing near the wide open window… My dearest, how do you live and what are you doing? I would like so much to be with you! We don't know when we'll leave. My little brother must go in the garden more often and regain more strength, then, I think we will be able to leave… There's a lot of funny couples coming and going in the street, even sometimes on bicycles._

_We have moved the piano in your lounge, also the couch that was impeding us during Mass. Last night, the fan exploded with a lot of noise, and in our rooms, upstairs, we had no electricity. I hope that, at least, you get our letters. A strange man has just passed, with a red fez on his head. Well, it's time. May the Lord protect you, my dear Mama, and all of you. I kiss Papa, you and Mashka, I take you in my arms and love you all._

_Your Olga._

A/N: I had originally written this fic with Ten and Donna, but when I read this (which is a real letter written by Grand Duchess Olga, though I cut out a bit to make it less wordy) and saw the line about the fez, I knew what I had to do. I cannot thank enough the members of the Alexander Palace Forum for their constant supplies of information on the family and translations of letters like this one. I would thank all of you on the forum, but I stupidly forgot my password years ago and hadn't opted for a security question. When I tried making a new account, the admin denied me. Go figure. :P I have a feeling that this fic might make its way back to you guys anyway, so, thanks! You can probably figure out who I was there by my propensity for relating every Tori Amos song to the Romanovs, haha.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I can't even find time to update a fic I've already written the entirety of. My account is going to get really dead after I'm done with this one.

If anyone I know irl has found this and knows it's me from my avid Russian history interests… hi. Please don't read my old fics. They're terrible.

Chapter Two

_She was a January girl  
She never let on how insane it was  
In that tiny, kind of scary house  
By the woods, by the woods, by the woods  
By the woods…  
Black-dove, black-dove  
You're not a helicopter  
You're not a copout either, honey  
Black-dove, black-dove  
You don't need a spaceship  
They don't know you've already lived  
On the other side of the galaxy…  
_ - Tori Amos, **Black-Dove (January)**

"Alright, spill," Amy said as soon as the TARDIS had left the desolate Russian landscape. "Where are you taking us? And it better not be to that carnival planet, not yet."

"Don't you trust me, Pond?" the Doctor asked as he returned his fez to storage. "I'm giving you what you wanted. The story."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but why are we going somewhere else for that? Can't you just, you know, tell it?"

"I could," the Doctor answered. "But you'd miss out on quite a lot if you only heard my side of it."

"So… who's side am I going to hear?" Amy asked.

"Only the definitive source," the Doctor said with a grin. The TARDIS engines stopped whirring, and the steadiness beneath Amy's feet told her that they'd reached their destination. The Doctor turned and headed to the doors, Amy and her curiosity in tow. She couldn't help but frown as they stepped outside onto a paved street. Except for the skin of some of the people passing them being blue, green, or scalier than was common on Earth, this place didn't look much different than a typical city back home.

"Ta-da," the Doctor announced. He noticed that Amy didn't seem thrilled. "Well?"

"Well what?" Amy asked. "With the way you were building up this story, I was expecting us to go to some mysterious, hidden stronghold, or breathtaking planet…"

"Sorry," The Doctor apologized, "But the mystery here is in the story, not the place. Although – you should be impressed just by the fact that I've brought you to another planet to learn about a Russian princess."

"I guess," Amy shrugged.

"And here you go!" the Doctor said suddenly. Amy looked up, but couldn't see any change around them that would have provoked such a reaction. The Doctor turned to look at her. "No more waiting for your story," he said before turning back. His eyes were fixated on a house right across the street from them.

Amy followed the Doctor's glance, still not seeing what he had latched on to, until she noticed a young woman in the distance stop abruptly after she'd glanced over in their direction. Amy knew that no one would notice the TARDIS unless they were looking for it – which was rather unlikely – but she couldn't shake the feeling that this woman was deliberately staring at them.

Amy glanced hesitantly back at the Doctor, who merely continued to smile. Unlike his usual mischievous grin however, this smile was more one of warmth – almost memory. The woman in the distance, meanwhile, looked back at him as if she was trying to decipher whether or not she was still in her bed, dreaming. Without warning, her expression suddenly changed to elation, and she broke into a run towards them.

"DOCTOR!" she called loudly.

From her reaction, Amy expected the woman to leap at the Doctor and hug him once she got close enough. Instead her pace slowed as she got near, and she stopped short. "I'm sorry… do you know the Doctor?" she asked. "Is he inside?"

Amy did a double-take at the woman's words. She knew about the TARDIS, and the Doctor, but didn't realize that he was standing right in front of her?

"Right, this is going to be a bit tricky to explain," the Doctor answered. "First off, hello –"

"Does she not know who you are?" Amy interrupted. "She clearly just said 'Doctor'…"

"Amy, this is going to take some time for her to work through. Now, why don't we all go into the TARDIS…"

"I _do_ know who the Doctor is, miss, but you'll excuse me if I'm not familiar with some of his newer acquaintances," the woman in front of them interjected, an annoyed undertone present in her voice. "And you'll kindly not talk about me as if I wasn't standing right in front of you."

The Doctor grinned at this. "Well, haven't lost all of that court formality, I see," he commented. "Don't worry about Amy – this is Amy, by the way – Don't worry about her, she's used to talking like she's special because she travels around with me." Amy gave him an annoyed look, but before she could protest, he grabbed her and the other woman by their shoulders. "Now, into the TARDIS, everyone!" he ordered.

He led both of the redheads towards the doors of the blue box. The woman hesitated, pulling away from the Doctor's touch. She stared him in the eye. "Why are you talking like you know me, sir?" she asked.

The Doctor did not shrink away from her glare, but instead met it. "Because I do know you, _Shvibzik_," he said suddenly. The woman jumped a little at the sound of this word, and then proceeded to look even more confused than she had been before.

"Come inside, and I'll explain everything," the Doctor promised.

The woman obeyed, though cautiously. Amy's mind was swimming as they walked in – she wanted to blurt out the obvious question: "Is this her?" But, still feeling a strange amount of shame from the woman's previous reproach, she kept quiet.

"Where is the Doctor?" the woman asked again, more warily than ever. The Doctor realized that even the interior of the TARDIS would be cause for alarm in her case.

He turned around and stepped in front of her, so that instead of focusing on her unfamiliar surroundings, she could instead only see his face. "You have every right not to trust me," he said calmly. "But I'm telling you the truth when I say that the Doctor you know is still here."

If anything, she looked angry upon hearing this response. "Then prove it," she countered. "Show him to me."

The Doctor paused for a second. "I am," he said.

She stepped back, horrified. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" she asked spitefully.

"You believed the Doctor when he told you he was over 700 years old, why can't you believe this?" the Doctor asked.

"He flies around the universe in a box," she answered. "Everything's a mystery with him, but I still know what he looks like!"

"And wouldn't you say it's mysterious that I know he's told you his age?" the Doctor asked again.

"He could have mentioned it," she continued to argue.

The Doctor reached out, clasping her hands in his. He looked directly into her eyes. "But you already know that's not true," he said. She didn't protest this time, but instead looked fearfully at his face. "Part of the Doctor's mystery is being old and young at the same time," he continued. "Another part is that he has the ability to change. Instead of growing old and dying, he starts over. New body, new life."

She still looked hesitant.

"Ask me whatever you want," the Doctor said. "I promise you, I remember everything. Your sisters… you were the only one of the bunch who seemed to have any idea what to do with me at first. Then again, you always had a prank for everyone," he reminisced, a smile creasing his face. "And I could probably still find my way around the palace if I went back. It was far too small." The woman rolled her eyes as if she'd heard this preposterous claim many times before. The Doctor's tone suddenly grew more melancholy. "And I remember your mother, and her great faith; looking for everything to save her," he said. "I remember what she said to me, the night I took you away. I wasn't going to, it wasn't right… but it's not every day the last Empress of Russia is pleading with you."

The woman looked deep into his eyes, as if trying to remove the layers that had built up around the man she once knew.

"Anastasia," he insisted. "It's me."

A second more of searching, and then her face lit up. "Doctor," she said, a wave of joy and disbelief simultaneously sweeping over her. Her apprehension now dissolved, she threw her arms around him. "It's so good to see you."

"As it is you, Grand Duchess," the Doctor answered. A sudden haggard, groaning noise from the other side of the control room caught their attention and drew them out of their embrace.

"Right… can we stop picking up new travelers while I'm still asleep?" A weary-eyed and pajama-clad Rory asked.

"Sorry, Rory, we're acting on a whim of your wife's here," the Doctor answered. He walked over to him and grabbed his collar. "And what's with the pajamas?" he said with mock disappointment. "You're not exactly dressed for the occasion."

"Occasion… I don't… Doctor, the last thing I remember was-"

"Oh, it'll have to do, I guess," the Doctor interrupted, leaving Rory's outfit alone. "Anyway, Amy, Rory, may I present to you Her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaevna Romanova of Russia." He extended his arms triumphantly, as if to prove that he'd really brought the princess to them. "Your Highness, I present Amelia Pond, of… somewhere in Scotland, and Rory Williams, of-"

"Alright, enough with 'Your Highness,'" Anastasia said. "You know I never liked titles."

"Oi, you were certainly insisting on it out there," Amy reminded, still feeling chastised.

"Sorry," Anastasia apologized, sounding much more sincere than she had when she first entered the TARDIS. "I guess sometimes I fall back on it as a defense mechanism. But it won't happen again."

"Indeed it won't, Amy, I can promise you," the Doctor smiled. He pointed to Anastasia. "You'll never meet a more modest daughter-of-a-ruler-of-a-hundred-million than her."

Anastasia laughed. "It's so strange, to talk to an entirely new face and hear the same person," she said. "And why exactly did you pick this? I miss your hair. And your scarf."

"And the jelly babies?" the Doctor asked.

"Of course the jelly babies," Anastasia nodded.

Rory had shuffled his way over to Amy. "Sorry… what's going on?" he asked.

"The Doctor told me he used to travel around with Anastasia," Amy began.

"Who?"

"You know, the princess that was killed but supposedly survived and tried to find her family again," Amy answered.

"I don't know that one, sorry," Rory said. He grimaced. "Though, I'm not sure I know much of anything right now. Was I… wrestling someone last night?"

"_You _thought it was someone. You attacked a barstool for hitting on your wife," Amy corrected.

"Right…" Rory said, scratching his head.

"And it wasn't last night, it was three nights ago," Amy added with a smile.

"Oh, god," Rory groaned.

"Anyway, when the Doctor told me about – well, her – I said 'prove it,'" Amy informed. "And he proved it."

The Doctor paused his reminiscing to look back at his companions. "Right, we have a lot to catch you two up on."

"Catch _us _up?" Amy asked. "You two are apparently great friends, yet you only just told her about regeneration?" Her arms were crossed obstinately.

"Oh Pond, it was just luck that I was brand new when I met you," the Doctor reminded. "It's not usually the first thing I tell people."

"Still, I knew about it when I was seven!"

"Seven?" Anastasia commented. "You've been with the Doctor for quite a while, then."

"Not really," Amy corrected. "He came back for me."

Here, Anastasia gave her fellow redhead a warm smile. "He came back for me too."

.

A/N: There's been a lot of debate over whether Anastasia's hair was red, brown, strawberry blonde, etc. Personally I imagine it as having been sort of auburn, but I call her a redhead here to more easily refer to her and Amy together. Also, I'm seriously racking my brains to try and figure out when exactly Amy knew about regeneration. She knew the Doctor was a brand new man the first time she met him, but I'm not sure when she found out exactly what it was. Again, it works best in the story if she knew about it from a young age, but I'm predicting a bunch of "incorrect canon!" reactions. :P


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is the big "get-the-background-information-out-of-the-way" chapter, so I apologize if readers know a lot about this already. Seeing as some people who don't know much about the Romanovs may be reading this just because it's in the Doctor Who section, I don't feel like I can really skip over it. I tried to break it up into two chapters to make it seem less plodding, but then the stopping point didn't feel natural. I promise it'll pick up again soon though!

Chapter Three

_I walked into your dream  
And now I've forgotten how to dream my own dream  
You are the CLEVER one, aren't you?  
Brides in veils for you  
We told you all of our secrets  
All but one, and don't you even try  
The phone has been disconnected  
Dripping with blood, and with time and with your advice  
Poison me against the MOON.  
_- Tori Amos, **Mother**

After sharing a few more words with his former companion, the Doctor spun around to the Ponds. "Right, Rory, go get changed," he instructed.

"Why?" Rory asked.

"Well for one, you're in the presence of royalty, have some manners," the Doctor said. "And two, we're going to the Grand Duchess's house so she can tell Amy the story she came for."

"Doctor, I don't really feel like going anywhere," Rory admitted. "And can't we just sit down in here somewhere?"

The Doctor looked a little dejected as he said the next words. "She doesn't want to stay in here."

"Why not?" Amy interjected, surprised.

"This isn't _my_ TARDIS. I don't like it; it makes me uneasy," Anastasia said.

"Oh, come on. It was too plain when you traveled with me. It's better now," the Doctor said.

"Better? Even my mother's rooms weren't this cluttered," Anastasia said obstinately.

"Alright, alright," the Doctor said, ending the argument. "Get dressed Rory, it's literally just across the street."

"Fine," Rory grumbled as he shuffled down one of the corridors.

"So it was cool being a princess, yeah?" Amy asked Anastasia as they waited. "All the fancy dresses, and balls…"

Anastasia let out a loud laugh. "I was too young for the balls, thank goodness," she said. "But I was so sick of those dresses, one day I threatened to tear mine all to bits. My governess almost had a heart attack, thinking of what Mother would say if that had happened on her watch."

"There's the Shvibzik I know," the Doctor commented with a smile.

"Which is what, exactly?" Amy asked.

"It means imp… or at least, that's how we used to use it," Anastasia answered proudly. "Family nickname for me."

Rory reemerged in the console room, somehow looking still more pathetic in the outfit he'd thrown on.

"Are you wearing my sunglasses?" Amy asked incredulously.

"It's too bright in here," Rory answered simply.

"Right… are we ready then?" Anastasia asked. She turned to lead the way and smirked. "Allons-y."

They quickly reached the door of the house. Anastasia opened it to reveal small, cozy rooms within – cluttered but not atrociously disheveled, with objects of every imaginable and unimaginable sort on display. "Just sit on the couch for now," she instructed. "I should have snacks around here somewhere… Oh!" she realized, walking over to a bookshelf. "Look at these while you're waiting, you two. They'll at least give you some background."

She placed a large photo album each into Amy's and Rory's laps before darting off to the kitchen.

"You look at it," Rory groaned, placing his album on top of Amy's.

"Have you got anything for hangovers?" Amy shouted to Anastasia as Rory winced.

"I'm Russian, of course I do," Anastasia answered. The Doctor chuckled to himself.

Anastasia's head reappeared in the doorway. "This would be a good chance to open those Chaslian candies, wouldn't it, Doctor?" she asked.

"Yes," the Doctor answered. She darted away again to retrieve them. "But remember, the Chaslians have very sharp teeth, so don't try to-" Before he could finish, a muffled yelp was heard from the kitchen. "-bite down on them."

As Amy glanced through the albums, the Doctor scanned Anastasia's overflowing bookshelves. "Ah, _Humanity Throughout the Stars_," he commented. "The definitive guide to the Human Empire for centuries."

"Sorry, what?" Amy asked.

"_The Seasonal Atmospheres of Tridechii_," the Doctor continued. "This is a collection quite befitting of a time traveler." He picked up another book. "_What To Expect When You're Expecting A Hybrid Species._ Maybe that's one you two should look into."

Rory gave an extremely loud groan.

The Doctor sat down across from Amy, who was still intently looking at the photos. For the most part, the album was full of girls – on beaches, playing in the snow, or humbly knitting in rooms that were by contrast, shockingly grand. "I don't care what she says, these dresses are gorgeous," she commented. "I want one."

"You know…" the Doctor began, "Officially, none of Anastasia's diaries have ever been found. Numerous photos are known about, yet missing… No one knows that while her sisters' things sit decaying in museums, everything of Anastasia's is right here in pristine condition."

Amy ran her hand along the photo album, conscious both of the fact that the pictures inside were turn-of-the-20th-century technology, and yet that the material of the album was only about as old as her own childhood photos.

"Tens of thousands of years in the future on an alien planet, these are younger than any of the Romanov artifacts on Earth," the Doctor continued.

"But that's not right to have missing pieces," Amy protested. "You should bring these to the museums too."

"Amy, if I started worrying about all of the things I've come across that should be in a museum, I'd be 3000 years old before I could start traveling around for fun again," the Doctor pointed out.

Anastasia returned to the room with a plate of tea, candies, and something strange-looking for Rory.

"That's not exactly a Russian concoction, now is it?" the Doctor commented as she handed the glass to the afflicted man.

"Well, I know you, Doctor," Anastasia answered as she helped Rory tilt the glass up to his mouth. "With the state that this man is in, you must've taken him to Sapsuria. And the only way to treat a Sapsurian hangover is with a Sapsurian cure."

The Doctor smiled. "Memory's still sharp as a tack, I see."

"Oi, I'm only twenty-five!" Anastasia protested.

"I'm… better," Rory suddenly said in disbelief, his voice losing its groan. "I just took a sip and I'm better. What is this?" he asked, sniffing it. "Can we make this on Earth?"

"Unfortunately not, Rory, but we can pick some up next time we swing by that planet," the Doctor replied.

"Now then," Anastasia asked, changing the subject. She looked at Amy. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, this is your family, yeah?" Amy asked, still looking at the album.

Anastasia nodded. "That's me," she said, pointing to the shortest girl in one of the pictures. Amy noticed that while the other girls all wore carefully-styled hair, Anastasia's was unruly by comparison, with half-tied bows falling out of messy clumps of pigtails.

"And those are my three sisters," Anastasia continued.

"Three?" Amy asked. "Well, I suppose all families were big back then," she realized.

"Well, we needed a boy," Anastasia clarified. "To inherit the throne. But my mother here," she pointed to another picture, this one of a tired, aging woman lying down on a porch chair, "ended up with the four of us first."

Amy studied the picture. "She looks… sad. Very sad."

Anastasia nodded knowingly. "Mama was never well," she explained, "Because Baby was so worrying."

"Baby?" Amy asked.

"Baby," Anastasia said, pointing to a boy in another picture who was standing on a chair. Next to him, a younger version of Anastasia worriedly looked at the camera. "My brother, Alexei. He was sick. It was called hemophilia, his-"

"-blood couldn't clot," finished Rory. Anastasia looked at him quizzically. "I'm a nurse," he explained.

"You're right," Anastasia answered. "The smallest bump, bruise, cut… his joints would be swollen and bleeding for days. He could've died each time. It was so frightening."

"And your mother gave it to him, is that right?" Rory asked.

Anastasia nodded. "She never forgave herself."

"Hemophilia was called the royal disease, but the royals were mostly unaware that they could pass it onto their children," the Doctor commented. "It started with Queen Victoria, who had a… spontaneous… mutation of the blood…" the Doctor trailed off as he thought. "Hmm, that would've been interesting," he commented to himself. "Too bad I didn't know that back then."

"Know what?" Amy asked, snapping him back to reality. "What were you just explaining?"

"Oh, nothing. I'll tell you later," he redirected, muttering, "Note to self, look through Russian court writings for mentions of lupine behavior."

"Right…" Amy said. At this point, she'd learned to ignore most of the Doctor's bizarre asides. She turned back to Anastasia. "Anyway, I guess what I'm most curious about is how you came to know the Doctor in the first place."

Anastasia opened her mouth to answer, but then a confused look came over her face. "Actually, I've never really thought of an answer for that," she admitted. "I assume he just decided to meet us one day, since that's what he does." When she turned to the Doctor for confirmation, however, he instead met her eyes with a sheepish look.

"Actually, not quite…" the Doctor began. "I wanted to see Swan Lake."

Both Amy and Anastasia burst out laughing.

"Of all the things going on at that time, you came for the _ballet_?" Anastasia asked incredulously.

"Well I wasn't necessarily aiming for that time!" the Doctor defended. "Actually, I was aiming for the 1911 production of Swan Lake in London starring Mathilde Kschessinskaya. However, in the course of my navigation, I first got distracted in trying to pronounce 'Kschessinskaya,' and then in remembering how she had been a paramour of your father's in his youth – don't look cross now," he interrupted his diatribe to dictate to Anastasia, "…And anyway, I guess the TARDIS decided that since I was thinking so much about Russia instead of properly guiding her, that it would serve me right to drop me off there on the eve of the Revolution."

Anastasia put her arms across her chest, feigning injury. "So you didn't come for us at all," she said.

"I might have eventually," the Doctor said. "The Russian Tsars were extremely interesting. I'd just felt at that point like I'd already gotten enough of a taste of them from accompanying Peter the Great on his trip through Europe."

"Excuse me, what?" Anastasia asked. The Doctor again changed the subject.

"And anyway, thanks to the TARDIS, I'm now too involved in your family's timeline to go back and meet you properly," he said, somewhat bitterly.

Amy broke the confused silence that had descended over the room. "So… you met her _improperly_?" she asked.

"Well it's not like I asked to be shipped to the palace," the Doctor answered.

"Shipped?" Rory repeated.

"I almost feel like I'm lucky to at least know that part," Anastasia commented, still a bit dumbfounded at the Doctor's real reason for ending up in Russia. "It's supposed to be my story, and I'm lost on half of it."

"Trust me, you're not alone on that one," Amy said.

"Oi, do you want to me to continue or not?" The Doctor asked, succeeding in silencing the room. "I quickly deduced that the TARDIS was playing a trick on me, so I figured the best way of getting back at her was to enjoy myself anyway." As he talked, the memories became vivid in his head. He could see himself clearly, walking down the icy Petrograd streets in his finally-appropriate oversized coat and scarf. "I attempted to find the famous Mariinsky Theatre, but a group of revolutionaries met me instead."

As the Doctor looked over at the group of angry peasants and soldiers waving red banners, he realized that the TARDIS had not taken him just to the Russian capital city, but to an Empire on the brink of collapse. He remarked to himself that this realization had hit him rather hard, until he discovered that the feeling in fact stemmed from a small rock which had been thrown at him by someone in the crowd.

The Doctor spun to see a gruff man approaching him. "You!" the man said with anger.

"Me?" the Doctor asked.

"How?" the man wondered.

"What?" the Doctor asked again.

"It's him!" the man shouted to the mass of people behind him. At his words, a small band of soldiers, who had not a week ago been quashing disorder on the streets where they now caused it, approached the Doctor. They stared directly into his eyes.

"So you have returned to mock us in our greatest struggle," one said.

"Actually, I didn't mean to be here at all," the Doctor began. "What happened was-" He was cut short when the first man struck him across the face.

"He did what?" Amy asked, shocked. "What for?"

"That's what I was trying to figure out," the Doctor answered. "And so far, I was doing a terrible job of it."

"No more of your tricks, you holy devil," the man said, contempt thick in his voice. "This disguise will not help you; your hold on the Tsar has already been broken. _We_ control the Tsar now, and he will soon give us everything we deserve!"

A burst of cheers broke out amongst the group. The Doctor was still trying to wrap his head around what was going on. Holy devil… hold on the Tsar? He realized incredulously what they must have been talking about. The fact that they were saying it to him, however, made no sense.

Before he could further decipher the actions of the group, the man who had struck him drew out a small pistol and pointed it directly at the Doctor. He smiled seedily. "You have been killed once, Grigori. We must kill you again before you destroy Russia any further."

"No, wait!" the Doctor begged. "I'm not-"

"Yuri!" a voice from the crowd shouted. They soon parted to let a man who was clearly a senior officer through. "Why are you executing this man? What is his crime?" he asked.

Yuri snickered. "His crimes are the worst. He is the reason we are all starving so our brothers can die on the battlefields!" he shouted angrily. "Just look at his face, you know who he is."

"Sorry… who were you exactly?" Amy asked, still feeling quite lost.

"Well, as I'd realized, this group seemed to think I had quite a resemblance to… Rasputin," the Doctor explained.

Amy was perplexed for a second. "To who?" she asked. "Wait, you mean the guy in that disco song?"

Anastasia, the Doctor, and Rory all eyed her curiously. "You know…" Amy started. When no one answered her, she began to sing under her breath. "Ra-Ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen…"

"Beg your pardon?" Anastasia asked, taken aback. The Doctor held up a hand to squelch her temper.

"Calm down, she doesn't mean anything by it," the Doctor explained. "Honestly, Pond, your bases for Russian history frighten me a bit."

"I… think I've heard of Rasputin," Rory interrupted. "Wasn't he some crazy man with a long beard?"

"Long beard?" Amy asked. "So you decided to stop shaving for about a hundred years, then?" she teased.

"No, no, Amy," the Doctor corrected. "I'll inform you that I've always had a very _sophisticated_ look." At this, an audible scoff was heard from Anastasia. The Doctor looked at her reproachfully. "Anyway, no, I did not have a beard. Nor black hair, even." Here a smile crossed his face. "Had a nice scarf, though."

"So why did these guys think you were Rasputin then?" Amy interrupted.

"Apparently it was something about my eyes," the Doctor shrugged. "Rasputin was known for having very hypnotic eyes, and supposedly mine were the same. They thought the difference in looks otherwise was a disguise to avoid being recognized."

"They almost killed you because of your eyes?" Rory asked.

"It's true," Anastasia interjected. "It was… uncanny. It must be some bizarre thing with Time Lords." She turned to the Doctor. "I can no longer see Father Grigori in your eyes, but I can still see the old you there, quite clearly." She looked back at Amy and Rory. "Looking at him for the first time, it was almost like Father Grigori had come back."

"Why did they want Rasputin dead then?" Rory asked. "I'm sorry, I don't know much about him."

"They'd already killed him," Anastasia said solemnly. "Well, not the revolutionaries, exactly, but they would have joined in if they could. Everyone thought he was controlling my mother, and that she was purposely sending our soldiers to die at the hands of the Germans, because she was born in Germany." By now, the Grand Duchess had grown visibly uncomfortable with the conversation. "We didn't see our father or brother for months because they were at military headquarters, trying to turn the war around. My mother and sisters nursed the wounded soldiers every day. And after all of that, to be blamed for everything that went wrong and to have our friend be murdered for it?" The rest of the room was silent as she spoke. "It was terrible," Anastasia finished. "And my own cousin the criminal."

Sensing the confusion in the room, the Doctor took over the conversation. "Russia, like nearly every other country in Europe, fought in World War I. It didn't go well for them… millions of casualties, starvation in the cities as trains of food were halted in favor of military supplies… eventually, in March 1917, this is what caused the revolution," he said. "Rasputin, however, had been killed in December 1916 by Prince Felix and Grand Duke Dmitri in an attempt to 'cleanse' the Russian throne of toxic influences."

"Many members of my family had problems with Father Grigori," Anastasia said. "My own sister, Olga, almost believed his death was necessary. But Felix and Dmitri… didn't they care about what Rasputin was _really_ doing?"

"Which was…?" Amy asked, still trying to piece everything that was being said together.

"Saving my brother," Anastasia answered simply.

"Anastasia's mother, the Empress Alexandra, was a devout Christian," the Doctor explained. "Since she blamed herself for giving her son an incurable disease, she sought spiritual comfort for it, and found Rasputin. By most accounts, he was a deeply religious preacher… but also an embarrassing, wild drunk when not in the presence of the Imperial family."

The Doctor turned to Anastasia, knowing she might be uncomfortable with what he was saying, but she simply nodded. By now, she'd heard both sides of the story several times. "The problem was," he continued, "Everyone hated Alexandra. Because she was German, or because she was shy and antisocial, or for numerous other reasons. So, Alexei's hemophilia was kept secret, lest the public believe she had tainted the blood of the Romanov dynasty. As a consequence, no one understood why the Empress was associating with a man who was so scandalous and revolting."

"She didn't just, y'know, kick him out when she found out what he was doing?" Amy asked.

"She couldn't," Anastasia answered. "It would risk Alexei's life."

Amy looked even more confused now. She wasn't sure if she should seek an answer from Rory, the Doctor, or Anastasia, so her eyes darted between each of them. "How…?"

"The great mystery of Rasputin," the Doctor stated. "Alexei would fall and hurt himself, and soon be close to death with a bout of hemophilia. The doctors would state that there was nothing they could do, so Rasputin would be called. As soon as the monk showed up, the boy began to recover."

"But… that's impossible," Rory interjected. "In our time, they have clotting factors to prevent hemophiliacs from bleeding out, but at the beginning of the 20th century, there was nothing. Like you said, the doctors couldn't do anything, so what could a holy man do?"

"Pray," the Doctor answered. "Or use hypnosis, or drugs, or whatever you want to believe. There are many theories, but no one knows for sure."

Amy and Rory instinctively turned to Anastasia. "I never saw what he did," she answered them. "We would pray as Father Grigori prayed, just in our own rooms, or in church. Mother said Alexei shouldn't be bothered too much while he was trying to heal."

"Whatever it was, it gave Alexandra an unshakable faith that Rasputin was her son's savior," the Doctor continued. "She wouldn't denounce the Mad Monk, no matter what his crimes were, or else Alexei could die. Meanwhile, soldiers are being killed and people are starving. Rumors in the capital say that Rasputin is hypnotizing the Tsar, and having an affair with the Empress. The government is despised everywhere."

"And that's what you landed in the middle of," Amy devised. The Doctor nodded. "But wait… if Rasputin was already dead, why did they think he was somehow back?"

"That's another interesting element of his story," the Doctor answered. "Rasputin wasn't just 'killed' in the basic sense. More accurately, he was poisoned, shot, beaten, stabbed and then drowned."

"Wow," was all Amy could say. "That's… insane."

"My brilliant cousins," Anastasia rolled her eyes. "They wanted to be the saviors of Imperial Russia, yet they couldn't even figure out how to kill a man."

"Rasputin had many otherworldly superstitions connected to him," the Doctor said. "Coming back from the dead wasn't really a stretch at that point. And thanks to that, and to my stupid eyes, I now had a gun pointed at my head."

.

A/N: I've always heard that none of Anastasia's diaries were found (she burned at least some of them herself while under house arrest), but I apologize if that information is inaccurate. Also, I hope everyone is remembering the hemophilia/werewolf thing from Tooth and Claw that I reference here. While it was funny in the episode, I'm not going in that direction in this story. Besides, Queen Victoria got bitten WELL past childbearing age in that episode, so there's no way that any sort of werewolf genes she could've had would've been passed on like her hemophilia gene was. Sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yay, reviews! I must be doing something right :P

**Response to Moonbeam141: **Unfortunately, the Royal Diaries book for Anastasia isn't very accurate. It has led to a lot of mischaracterizations of her and her siblings. One of my motivations in writing this is how most Romanov-focused fiction isn't accurate/realistic to how they really were… My attempt is to stay true to the actual people, even while throwing a spaceship into the mix!

As for research, I did read a TON of books throughout the process of writing this story. This chapter is where the mixing of historical accounts of the Russian Revolution really comes in, so I'll list the most important sources I used:

_The Fate of the Romanovs_, by Greg King and Penny Wilson  
_Nicholas and Alexandra_, by Robert K. Massie  
_The Real Tsaritsa_, by Lili Dehn (available online at the Alexander Palace website)  
_Thirteen Years at the Russian Court_, by Pierre Gilliard (also available on the AP site)  
_Memories of the Russian Court_, by Anna Vyrubova (ditto)  
And, of course, the Alexander Palace forums!

Chapter Four

_Some things are…  
Melting now.  
Some things are melting now.  
Well, hey-y-y-y  
What's it gonna take 'til my baby's alright?  
What's it gonna take 'til my baby's alright?  
And Greg he writes letters with his birthday pen  
Sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in…  
_ - Tori Amos, **Pretty Good Year**

"But they didn't shoot you," Amy said. The story was already so bizarre, however, that she second-guessed herself. "…Did they?"

"No," the Doctor replied.

"Even if he is the cause of all our problems, Yuri," the senior officer admonished, "Perhaps he can also be their solution."

Yuri turned to face his superior, but did not drop his weapon. "Sir, that's why I'm shooting him!" he stated. A few laughs could be heard amongst the crowd.

"You new recruits are all the same," the officer scoffed. "You think of killing as the only answer."

"What do you suggest, then?" Yuri asked, exasperated.

"Don't you think the Empress would be happy to know that her lover is still alive?" the officer asked.

"Sir?" Yuri replied, still confused.

"So happy that perhaps she would meet some demands in exchange for his safe return to her?"

Now that the officer's idea had been revealed, murmurs both of agreement and disgust circled through the crowd.

"But sir, then he gets all the power he had before!" Yuri reminded.

"Maybe. But we will have more power. With it, we will kill him when the time is right. And his German woman too!"

Now the revolutionaries were all cheering.

"Do not take your weapon off him, Yuri. We will lead him to the palace. Only shoot him if he attempts to run."

"I did not attempt to run," the Doctor stated, as if it wasn't the obvious choice. "And now I was being given an armed escort to the Alexander Palace! Is that success or what?" He looked dismayed when his audience didn't share his excitement. "Right… well, the Alexander Palace itself is outside of the capital city, in a place known as the Tsar's Village. Getting there by way of a revolutionary demonstration was quite time-consuming," he assured. "But at least I got to see all the sights. Russia on the cusp of revolution… it was glorious."

"Okay, this isn't the History Channel, get to it," Amy complained.

"Sorry," the Doctor apologized. "Anyway, the palace normally had a fair deal of security. In light of most of the soldiers joining the revolution, however, it was now just a few loyal regiments fighting off anyone who tried to get in."

As the Doctor was led through the icy, dark park, a shot was suddenly fired from the distance. No one was hit, but many of the revolutionaries scattered and ran. Those holding the Doctor at gunpoint, however, remained.

"It may not be up to you to shoot me if that keeps up," the Doctor commented to those around him.

Yuri tightened his grip on the Doctor's overcoat. "Oh it'll be up to me, alright," he said angrily.

"You are ordered to turn back!" a voice shouted from the direction the palace was in.

"We demand to see the Empress!" one of the revolutionaries yelled as a reply.

"No one is getting to the Empress or her children! Turn back, or we will open fire!"

The Doctor felt Yuri's pistol press against his back. "If we cannot see her, we will kill her greatest friend!" he shouted excitedly.

"Who do you speak of?" an inquiry arose.

"The Holy Devil Rasputin!" Yuri screamed, nearly deafening the Doctor with his fervor.

"Rasputin?" came the incredulous reply. It was followed by a wave of laughter and jeers by the palace guards. "You have brought a corpse to help your cause?" another shouted.

"The madman has returned from his grave to seek vengeance!" a revolutionary cried. "If the Empress does not meet our demands, she will never see him again!"

"Enough!" the response came. "We are sending a band of troops to dispose of you. Turn back now, or die for your cause!"

As the orders came, a shadowy mass became visible on the horizon, turning into individual figures with alarming speed.

"Sir…" Yuri began, his earlier zeal vanished. "There are more of them than I was expecting."

"Yes, Yuri…" the senior officer replied, his eyes on the rapidly advancing troops and their rifles. "I agree."

"For all the talk they'd done across those fifteen miles to the palace, they didn't end up being the best fighters once we got there," the Doctor narrated.

"Retreat!" the officer shouted. A further scattering of revolutionaries occurred.

"Sir, what about him?" Yuri asked, still gripping the Doctor's coat.

"Throw him to those pigs," the officer said before he turned and ran.

With a forceful thrust, Yuri let go of the Doctor, pushing him right into the hands of the approaching soldiers.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" the Doctor implored, holding his hands up in surrender as the loyalist troops surrounded him.

"You, your holiness," one of them chided, stepping up to him, "must be Rasputin."

"That's what they keep telling me," the Doctor answered. "I'm almost starting to believe it myself."

The detachment's leader approached, ready to arrest the Doctor and haul him away to the Peter and Paul Fortress. When he came within five feet of him, however, he suddenly stopped.

"What is it, sir?" another soldier asked, noting the general's silence. He was staring directly into the Doctor's eyes. "Take this man to the Empress. Immediately."

…

"I was brought into a guard's post of sorts, no glamorous reception by any means yet," the Doctor commented, smiling. "But I was going to meet Alexandra Feodorovna! The last Empress of Russia! One of history's most tragic figures!"

Amy leaned over to Rory. "I think he's about the only person I know who would be that giddy after walking fifteen miles with a gun against his back," she murmured.

…

After waiting for a while in the small room with sparse furniture, with nothing but silence between him and the guards, everyone suddenly sprang up to stand at attention. A tall, imposing woman, stern of features but graceful in dress and movement, entered the room: the Tsaritsa. After exchanging some hushed words with the general, she approached the Doctor, who was doing his best to stand calmly and hide his wonderment.

"So, this is the man those hooligans are claiming to be Rasputin," she commented.

"Your Majesty, I apologize-" the Doctor tried to explain. A guard silenced him before he could get out another word. The Empress held her cold gaze on him. No matter what the Doctor had read about her private struggles, poor health, and hysterical behavior as response to any threat, he genuinely felt intimidated by the woman. As she stared into his eyes, he expected to be thrown out onto the snow any minute; or worse, executed for treason.

"Thank you for bringing him to me," Alexandra addressed the guards without breaking her gaze on the Doctor. "You are dismissed."

"Your Majesty, are you sure…?" the general started.

"I will be fine, General Resin," the Empress assured him. "Now leave us, please."

Her posture remained rigid as every soldier in the detachment filed out. The Doctor wasn't quite sure what she would say to him once they all left. When the door closed behind them, however, he was shocked to see her fall to her knees.

"Empress!" he exclaimed, thinking she had fainted. "Are you-" He stopped, however, when he noticed she had taken his hand in hers and begun kissing it.

"Father Grigori, it is truly you!" she raved. "God has sent you back to us at our darkest hour!"

"Oh dear," the Doctor muttered. He took a deep breath. "Your Majesty… I'm sorry, but I am not Grigori Rasputin."

Alexandra rose to her feet, bearing a slightly wounded look. "But… your eyes," she protested. "They are exactly as his were. Deep, piercing… looking into those eyes, there is no question in my mind of whom they belong to."

"Really? Well, that's news to me," the Doctor said, using a nearby metallic surface as a makeshift mirror. "Perhaps, if Rasputin did have some sort of hypnotic power, it was through absorption of time energy…" He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. "Is there a rift anywhere around here, I wonder? Or perhaps where he was born?"

"Excuse me?" the Tsaritsa asked, bewildered.

"Oh, sorry. Nothing," the Doctor said as he put away his screwdriver and in its place produced a small paper bag from his coat pocket. "Jelly baby?"

Alexandra ignored the request. "Sir, if you are not Father Grigori, then who are you, and what are you doing in Tsarskoye Selo?"

"It was that crowd out there. They brought me from Petrograd," the Doctor explained. "Intended to use me as a bargaining chip for some demands."

Alexandra sighed visibly. "It's getting worse out there," she said. "How is it in the city?"

"Chaotic," the Doctor answered.

The Empress's face now carried something very fatalistic in its look. "All this starting from a bread riot." She looked over at the Doctor and snapped back to normality. "If you will excuse me, sir, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," the Doctor clarified. "Just call me the Doctor."

"Doctor?" Alexandra asked. "We already have two doctors here. Doctor who?"

"Oh believe me, it's unimportant," the Doctor answered.

"Yes… I suppose it is," the Empress commented, realizing something. "Come with me, Doctor."

The Doctor was surprised by the request. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty?"

Alexandra stopped; by this point she had reached the door. "You may not be Father Grigori, but God has certainly sent you," she said calmly. "Botkin has his hands full. I could use someone else to look over Anna and the children." She opened the door and walked through. Reluctantly, the Doctor followed.

"Your Majesty-" he started to protest. He lost his words, however, as the Empress led him through the heart of the palace. Each wall was lined with priceless paintings and handcrafted trinkets, while gleaming, oversized chandeliers hung above and carpets that cost more than the average house were unceremoniously walked on by the Empress. The Doctor forgot all other thoughts, realizing that soon this splendor would be purged from the country and gone forever.

"My children, along with my friend Ms. Vyrubova, are coming down with the measles," Alexandra explained as they walked through the seemingly unending corridors. "Dr. Botkin is our family physician, but so many patients to care for at once is exhausting, even if Dr. Derevenko and I are helping him. The cases are all so bad. Olga is losing her hair… Tatiana has gone deaf. Anastasia was fine, but she began coughing this morning."

They had reached a door at the end of a hallway. Although they had only gone up one flight of stairs, the Doctor noticed that the Tsaritsa was suddenly out of breath as she talked to him. Hesitantly, he held out a hand in case he would need to catch her if she lost her strength. The Doctor had heard that the Empress had suffered from either extremely poor health or deep-seated hypochondria all throughout her lifetime. Watching her struggle for breath, yet remain determined to care for her children, he wasn't sure which to believe. The Tsaritsa looked the Doctor in the eyes again, her haggard face full of worry. "Please just take a look at them," she begged.

The Doctor wasn't sure what he could do, but he figured that if he was at a loss for words, he could just concur with whatever the other doctors said, and then duck out. The toxicity of the city made him want to leave as soon as possible. "Alright, Your Majesty," he agreed.

…

"The first room we walked into was Alexei's," the Doctor narrated. "Luckily, I didn't have to do much, since his case was apparently the mildest of the children's."

"Alyosha!" The Empress exclaimed upon the sight of her son sitting up in bed. "Oh, my baby!" she said as she hugged him. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she felt the boy's forehead.

"Much better, Mama," the Tsarevitch answered.

"Oh, thank God," Alexandra said with relief, making the sign of the cross. "Alexei, I'd like you to meet a new doctor who has come to look at you and your sisters," she said, introducing the Doctor to the young boy.

"Your Imperial Highness," the Doctor bowed.

"A new doctor?" Alexei asked, obviously displeased. "But Mama, where is Derevenko?"

"He's attending to your sisters, Alexei," Alexandra answered. "I know it is… unusual for them to be more ill than you, but it is so, and Botkin and Derevenko have to watch over them as well."

"But no one's come to see me today," Alexei protested. "Not even Nastya."

"Anastasia is sick now, too," Alexandra explained. "You must pray for your sister that she gets better as quickly as you did. And once you've rested up and are on your feet, you can help your doctors care for her."

"Is Mashka sick?" Alexei asked. "When she kissed me good night yesterday, her skin was cold."

The Empress drew a sharp breath. It was obvious there was something she didn't want to tell her son. "Maria and I went out last night to say hello to our sailors," she said simply.

"Our sailors?" The boy asked, confused.

"Yes. They are guarding us here in the palace."

"What about the regular soldiers, the ones who are always there?" Alexei asked, reaching for a small Cossack figurine next to his bed.

"They're tired," was all Alexandra could reply. "Taking a break. And your sister and I couldn't resist going to see the sailors. We haven't gotten the chance to talk to them in so long."

"I want to see them too!" Alexei protested.

"Now, now, Alyosha, you don't want to get out of bed before you're all better," the Empress reminded.

"But I miss them. I miss the Standart," the boy whined.

"I know, Baby," Alexandra soothed, running her fingers through Alexei's hair. "But it's getting late. You need rest. Perhaps you can say hello to them tomorrow."

"Will they be doing maneuvers again then?" Alexei asked.

"Maneuvers?" Alexandra inquired, caught off guard.

"I hear lots of shots outside," Alexei answered. "Like the military maneuvers Papa and I watched at headquarters."

"Yes," Alexandra replied, her face barely concealing the nervous tone in her voice. "Well, Papa's coming home soon, so they're probably practicing for him."

"He is?" The young boy's face lit up.

"Yes, darling," the Empress answered. "He should be here tomorrow. Now go to sleep." She got up from his bedside to tuck the boy in. Alexei looked over at the Doctor, acknowledging him for the first time.

"You remind me of Father Grigori," the boy said.

…

As they left the room, Alexandra's spirits looked almost entirely restored.

"Oh, thank you, Doctor," she said cheerily.

The Doctor was confused. "Your Majesty, I didn't do anything…"

"He recognized you," she assured, then quickly corrected herself. "I mean, he saw your resemblance to Our Friend. The familiar face will calm him; he'll be totally well in no time at all."

"Your Majesty, I'm not sure if I am really doing that much," the Doctor protested. The extent of the woman's faith was starting to make him uneasy.

"Nonsense," Alexandra deflected. "You must look at the girls next. They are worse off, and more in need of reassurance."

"Well, if that's all you would like me to do…" the Doctor replied, realizing that the Empress didn't seem to expect him to do much in the way of medicine either. "If I could offer one medical opinion, however," he began. "Your Majesty, I believe the Tsarevitch was correct in saying that it was not wise to take a girl surrounded by measles patients out into that cold."

The Tsaritsa stopped walking and turned to face the Doctor in the middle of the hall. "Well, we didn't really do it for amusement," she confided. "Doctor, you've seen how it is in the city. Almost all of the soldiers have deserted and joined these riots. They have all of the Ministers in the Duma under their control now. We are the only ones left with any power," she said solemnly. "And even those who are supposed to defend us are leaving. The Navy and a few small regiments are all we have left."

"Against the entire city?" The Doctor asked in disbelief.

The Empress nodded, her expression betraying her internal panic. "And we were worried they might leave, too. So my daughter and I went out to plead with them," she explained. "Many of them used to serve us on our family's yacht, the Standart. We hoped that if we could get them to remember those happy times, before this terrible war, that they would consider it worthwhile to fight for us."

The Doctor realized in that moment that the Empress was far less naïve than he had thought.

"Please don't tell the children," Alexandra begged. "They don't need the worry."

…

Anastasia, who had been listening intently to the Doctor's story until this point, broke her silence. "I… never realized how much she did for us then," she said, reaching over to take a photograph of her mother off a shelf.

"Well, you can be excused over that matter," the Doctor said as she gazed reflectively at the picture. "You weren't really in a state to know anything that was going on."

Anastasia looked up at him, puzzled. "I was what?" she asked.

"Hang on, just getting to that bit," the Doctor ensured.

…

"I'll take you to the girls' sickroom now," the Empress said, movement restoring her composure. "Thankfully Maria is still well, but she is the only one." They reached the door and Alexandra put her hand on the knob to open it. "The other three are all here: Olga, Tatiana, and…" The Empress's voice trailed off as she looked into the room and saw an empty bed in the corner, its sheets strewn all across the floor. "ANASTASIA!" she bellowed.

Almost in response, a flustered woman ran up to them, but it was clear from Alexandra's expression that she wasn't Anastasia. "Lili, what's going on?" the Empress asked.

"Madame," said Lili, almost totally out of breath. "Come quick," she said, beckoning the Doctor and Alexandra to follow her.

They walked briskly down the hall and a flight of stairs, into a very purple and cluttered room where two teenage girls, one in a simple dress and the other in a nightgown, appeared to be engaged in some sort of wrestling.

"Girls, what is the meaning of this?" Alexandra demanded, flabbergasted by the sight.

"Mama, I can't make her stop," cried the fully-dressed girl, who was holding the other by the arm.

"I'll stop when you give it back!" the other girl cried savagely, struggling out of her sister's grasp. Barely visible through her wild, uncombed hair was her face, which was alarmingly red. Overwhelmed, the first girl was forced to let go, leading her banshee-like sister to begin carelessly rummaging through the nearest desk. She knocked letters, ink bottles, and even priceless Fabergé eggs to the floor in her wake.

"Anastasia! What on Earth are you doing?" Alexandra demanded with alarm.

"Looking for my doll!" the banshee girl shouted back, as if it was obvious. "_She_ hid it!"

"Mashka? Our angel?" Alexandra asked. "Now why would she do such a thing? And your only concern right now should be returning to your bed, young lady."

"Mama," said Maria, who was now crouching down to salvage the objects her sister had thrown, "I did hide her doll."

"Maria, why ever would you?" Alexandra asked, puzzled.

"When I was _seven._" Maria finished.

Alexandra sighed. "It's the fever," she realized. "She's come down with it much faster than I expected she would. She's delirious." The Empress cautiously approached her wild daughter as she wrenched with all her might at a desk drawer.

"She put a doll in there herself, Mama," Maria explained. "I followed her to get her back in bed, and she went crazy. I'm usually stronger than her, but…"

"It's all right, dear," Alexandra said, reassuring both daughters. She stroked Anastasia's hair, simultaneously calming her down and attempting to tame her locks. "Doctor, help me get her back to bed," Alexandra called.

Maria eyed the Doctor curiously as he walked across the room. "We have a new doctor?" she asked.

"Temporarily, yes," Alexandra answered as she guided her dazed daughter out of the room.

"Hello," the Doctor gave a wave as he steadied Anastasia on their way past.

…

"And that was how we met!" the Doctor concluded with a triumphant smile. Instead of commentaries or questions, however, the room was silent.

"I… did that?" Anastasia said finally. "That was your first impression of me?"

"And a bang-up one at that," the Doctor assured. "The famous Grand Duchess Anastasia, delirious with fever, destroying her mother's study, and thinking she was five years old again. Wonderful."

Anastasia sunk her head down as she sat in her chair. "Mama must have wanted to kill me," she said bashfully.

The Doctor scoffed. "Come on, I don't think it was that bad."

…

"I could kill that child!" Alexandra exclaimed as they exited the sickroom. "Not only does she endanger her health getting out of bed like that, but she destroys my room, and makes the most awful scene! I'm terribly sorry you had to witness that, Doctor."

"It's quite alright, Your Majesty," the Doctor answered. "She couldn't have known what she was doing."

Alexandra nodded, then gasped as she looked at her watch. "Goodness, it's late!" she said. "We must get you a room ready for the night."

"Empress, that's really not necessary," the Doctor protested. "I should be going."

Alexandra gave him a look of disbelief. "Going where?" she asked. "The trains aren't running. Another blizzard is on its way. Even if you got to Petrograd, there's no telling what those rioters who brought you here would do if they saw you again."

The Doctor paused. The Empress, of course, couldn't know that he had a ship waiting for him that could whisk him light years away from the turmoil she was trapped in. However, she was right about the difficulties in getting back to where he'd left it. The TARDIS wouldn't be noticed for however long it would sit there, he was sure – so he decided it was best to wait for a more opportune moment to leave. "You're right," he said. "I suppose I will stay."

.

A/N: To avoid confusion – because a friend of mine once had trouble reading something of mine because of this – "Empress" and "Tsaritsa" are interchangeable. So is "Tsarina," which, although more popular, is actually just the Italian translation of the Russian "Tsaritsa" which has somehow found its way into English. I try to use Tsaritsa, but I apologize if I ever slip here or there into Tsarina, since it does flow off the tongue (keyboard?) better. Similarly, "Mashka" is a diminutive nickname for Maria, as "Nastya" is for Anastasia. "Alyosha" was supposedly one of Alexei's nicknames, and is apparently Russian for "sunbeam." However, recent posts on the AP forum are suggesting that it was never used by the family, but has instead come out of posthumous accounts of them. And searching for the nickname only shows that it's another diminutive of Alexei, and that it doesn't actually mean anything in Russian. I'd end up giving myself a huge headache before I could solve how correct it would be to use it here, so I decided to go with it, since it fits in the scene anyway.

I'm starting to put page breaks in to separate the dialogue of the Doctor while narrating to Amy and Rory from his dialogue in the flashbacks. It may look a little weird to only have one or two lines and then another break, but I found it got confusing if I had it all as one wall of text.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for all of the follows on this story!

Chapter Five

_And in the doorway they stay  
And laugh as violins fill with water  
Screams from the BLUEBELLS can't make them go away  
Well, I'm not seventeen  
But I've cuts on my knees  
Falling down as the winter takes one more CHERRY TREE  
_ - Tori Amos, **Girl**

"They scrambled to put together a guestroom for me, which I felt somewhat bad about, since I didn't sleep in it at all," the Doctor recalled. "Instead, I spent the night exploring the palace."

"I don't think he ever slept," Anastasia added. "Every time I had trouble drifting off, I'd find him up admiring some stupid vase or reading through every book in the library. Well, not really reading – that thing he does," she corrected, making a motion with her hands as if quickly flipping through an entire book.

"Oh, yes," Amy commented. "It always annoys me when he does that."

"Well excuse me," the Doctor said. "I didn't ask to be able to read human books hundreds of times faster than you lot. And it wouldn't have hurt you to put a few more books in that library, I read through all of them twice," he said, pointing a finger at Anastasia.

"We had about ten thousand books in that library…" Anastasia commented.

"_Anyway,_" The Doctor said, returning to his story. "I lost track of time wandering around, and discovered that it was nearly noon when my attention was caught by the electricity going out."

…

"Doctor!" the Empress called as he walked into one of her drawing rooms. She was lying down on a large sofa, looking utterly exhausted. Her daughter and lady-in-waiting from the night before were attending to her. "You're still here! We thought you had gone."

"Sorry, Your Majesty," the Doctor apologized. "I got a bit lost in this place."

Maria chuckled at this. Alexandra turned to her daughter. "Mashka, could you please get me a glass of water, dear?" she asked.

"Yes, Mama," Maria answered, getting up and exiting the room. Lili Dehn lit an oil lamp on a small table.

"So the power is out throughout the palace," the Doctor commented.

"Yes, and the heat," the Empress commented. "I'm so worried about the children."

"How are they?" the Doctor asked.

"Anastasia is in the grip of it," Alexandra answered. "Olga's fever is still quite high, and Tatiana has abscesses in her ears. Alexei is improving well… but I worry that it won't matter soon."

The Doctor was taken aback. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"The troops have deserted," The Empress answered fatalistically. "Our own sailors have turned their back on us. We have a few loyal troops remaining, but how can it be enough against that angry city?"

The Doctor looked outside. A bitter cold wind whipped heavily falling snow past the window, creating a near whiteout. Through it, he saw a few deserted guns, and nothing else.

"The President of the Duma warned us all to evacuate a few days ago," Alexandra revealed. "I told him the children were too sick to be moved. Now what will happen to them?" She dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes. "I just hope the Emperor can get here soon."

Maria reentered the room, empty-handed. "The water is shut off, too," she told her mother.

Alexandra sighed. "I guess we will get someone to break the ice outside," she said.

…

"I spent most of that day pretending I was an actual doctor, looking at you and your siblings," the Doctor narrated. "Well, that and trying not to freeze."

"I don't remember any of that," Anastasia confessed.

"Well, good, because my advice was probably rubbish," the Doctor admitted. "Your real doctors didn't seem too happy about me being there. Tatiana was the only one coherent enough to ask me who I was, and I had to write my answer on a piece of paper for her."

Anastasia was showing Amy and Rory photos in her album of herself and her sisters during their illness.

"You look so thin," Amy commented. "Why did your mother take pictures of all this?"

"She always liked to document everything," Anastasia said. She flipped to a few pages earlier in the album. "For example, this is a picture of my brother when his hemophilia was at its worst," she said solemnly. "We had an obituary written for him and everything." Next to the boy's bed sat Alexandra, her hair disheveled and her face lined with worry.

"Your brother kept me in his room for a few hours that day, telling me about Father Grigori and all of the religious advice he'd given him in the past," the Doctor mentioned. "And playing with his toy soldiers, of course." Anastasia smiled at the memory.

"And later, the usual troubles surrounding my attempts to blend in began to bubble up," the Doctor continued.

…

"It is just the blizzard that delays him, I know it is," Alexandra said that night, still reclined on her sofa. Her lady-in-waiting sat by her, while the Doctor and Maria worked on a puzzle on the floor.

"Yes, Madame," Lili answered. "We will wait for the Emperor another day. It won't matter."

"Did I hear you say you tried to reach him by airplane?" the Doctor inquired.

"Tried," Lili said. "But the blizzard is too bad to send one."

Alexandra lifted her head up from her pillows. "Lili, have you been brushing up on English lately?" she asked.

"Why… no, Madame," Lili answered, confused. "I still cannot speak it very well."

"Yet you understood what the Doctor just said to you," Alexandra pointed out.

"Well, of course, Madame," her friend answered, even more perplexed. "He asked me in French."

"No he didn't," Alexandra protested. "He was speaking English, clear as day."

"Madame, perhaps you should get some rest," Lili suggested politely.

"It wasn't English, Mama," Maria agreed, looking over at her mother. "But, Lili… surely you heard Russian?" she asked.

"Mademoiselle?" Lili asked, still more confused.

Maria turned back to the Doctor, and noted that he somehow seemed to have filled in half of the puzzle while her head was turned. She ignored that peculiarity in favor of the more pressing one. "You were speaking Russian, weren't you, sir?"

…

"Thanks to the TARDIS, everyone was hearing me in the language they felt most comfortable speaking," the Doctor explained to Amy and Rory. "And since European royalty was so cosmopolitan, everyone in the room spoke different languages, and their knowledge didn't always overlap. You try explaining that one," the Doctor said. He seemed exasperated just recounting it to them.

"English and Russian are about equal for me," Anastasia commented. "For the longest time, I thought he was just switching languages every sentence as a game."

"Hey, sometimes I was," the Doctor winked.

…

The Empress sat up in her chair, now visibly perturbed. "What is this, the Tower of Babel?" she asked.

Thankfully, the interrogation was interrupted by a servant entering the room before the Doctor's identity could become unraveled. "Your Majesty," he bowed. "His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke Paul is in the next room, wishing to see you."

The Empress got up without hesitation, sparing only a moment to compose herself before exiting. Lili, Maria and the Doctor sat quietly, awaiting her return. Soon, Alexandra's voice could be heard through the walls, along with that of a man, both yelling.

"Why is he shouting at Mama?" Maria asked. "Do you think I had better see what's the matter, Lili?"

"No, no," Lili replied nervously. "We had better remain here, quietly."

"Pardon me, Ms. Dehn," the Doctor inquired. "But what is the date?"

"March the 3rd," Lili answered simply. The Doctor did the math in his head, calculating the difference between the Imperial Russian calendar and that which was used by the rest of Europe. Yesterday had been the Ides of March.

"You can remain, but I'll go to my room," Maria informed Lili. "I can't bear to think Mama is worried."

"Yes, I think I'd better leave as well," the Doctor commented. He knew that in the other room, Alexandra was receiving some of the most devastating news she would ever hear: that yesterday, her husband had decided to give up his throne in an attempt to appease the rioters and restore some peace in his war-ravaged empire. The Doctor thought it was best, in light of his awkward visit to the palace, to at least not intrude on her inevitable grieving.

He left Lili Dehn alone in the room and walked down the hall. The Doctor figured he would explore the palace further – albeit by candlelight – as the weather outside was still too harsh to attempt to leave. His attention was diverted, however, by a loud banging sound a few rooms away.

The Doctor noticed as he opened the door and stepped inside that it was the same room where all the commotion had taken place the night before. Sure enough, as he soon detected in the darkness, there once again was Anastasia, savagely wrenching at the same drawer where Maria said she had placed her own doll.

"Grand Duchess?" the Doctor asked cautiously, not sure what mental state she would be in.

The girl jumped slightly at the unexpected presence. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm the Doctor," he answered. "Your mother asked me to help out while you and your sisters are sick. I examined you earlier today, do you remember?"

Anastasia squinted as she looked at him. "It's kind of fuzzy…" she admitted. She then turned her head to the side and gave the Doctor a quizzical look. "But those eyes… I've seen those before."

"I've been told that I bear a resemblance to your old friend, Grigori Rasputin," the Doctor informed.

"Yes!" Anastasia realized. "That's it exactly! Are you related to him?"

The Doctor laughed. "No, I'm not," he said.

"Are you sure?" Anastasia insisted, squinting at him.

"I'm sure," the Doctor said. "Now, Grand Duchess, shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I guess so," Anastasia sulked. "But I think… I put something in here yesterday," she said, visually struggling to sift through the haze in her memory. "And there's been so much noise outside, I feel…" she paused. "I just wouldn't want to forget that it's here," she corrected, hiding that a doll still gave her a sense of comfort at age fifteen. "But, I put it in a locking drawer, and I don't know where the key is. It's stupid."

"Well, breaking your mother's desk probably isn't the best solution," the Doctor pointed out. He walked over and knelt down next to Anastasia. "Mind if I take a look?" He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his coat pocket. A few seconds later, the tiny drawer cracked open.

Anastasia was amazed. She tried for a second to figure out what had just happened, but abandoned this in favor of opening the drawer the rest of the way and retrieving from it a small cloth doll, dressed in a traditional Russian costume. She smiled as she held the doll in her hands.

"I sewed this doll by myself when I was little," she explained. "And Olga and Tatiana did the clothes for me."

"And Maria hid it from you," the Doctor finished.

Anastasia looked confused. "How did you…"

"You talked about a lot of things before your fever broke," the Doctor explained, not wanting to embarrass the Grand Duchess with the full extent of what she had done.

"Oh," Anastasia answered simply. She looked back at the now-open drawer that she'd struggled against for so long. "What sort of doctor are you, anyway?" she asked.

The Doctor shrugged as he put his sonic screwdriver away. "The clever sort, I suppose."

"Well, thank you," Anastasia said as she held the doll.

"Come on, now," the Doctor said, standing up. "Back to bed."

Anastasia complied, but looked reluctant. "How is Mama?" she asked as they walked out of the room. "Tell her I'm sorry I got sick and I can't help her."

"It'll be alright," the Doctor reassured. "Only you won't get better any sooner by getting out of bed so much. How do you keep doing that without being noticed, anyway?"

Anastasia shrugged. "I just wait until all the doctors leave the room. Or when they're busy with Olga and Tatiana," she answered. "It's just like all those parades and processions – everyone else goes first. By the time my stubby legs get me there, the crowds are too busy cheering them to even notice me."

The Doctor stopped walking. "You think no one notices you?" he asked.

"Well, of course," Anastasia said as if it was obvious. "Alexei always needs so much attention, and besides that, he's the _heir_," she said, lending a mocking gravitas to the last word. "Maria, Olga and Tatiana are all grown, and all the soldiers won't stop staring at them." She looked down at the doll in her hands. "I'm just a child, I guess," she said sadly.

The Doctor smiled, placing a hand on the shoulder of the melancholy girl. "But you know what?" he asked. "One day, you're going to be more famous than any other Romanov. That name of yours is the only one people will remember."

"How would you know that?" Anastasia asked.

The Doctor winked at her. "Trust me," was all he said. He opened the sickroom door. "Now, in you go."

Anastasia smiled at him as she walked past. The Doctor could faintly see from the glow of oil lamps in the room that her sisters were propped up in their beds with pillows.

"Back from exploring, are you?" Olga asked, looking up from a book.

Anastasia nodded. "How is Tatiana?" she asked.

"She still can't hear a thing," Olga answered.

"Oh," Anastasia replied. She seemed upset at first, but suddenly gave a mischievous grin. Before Olga could ask what her youngest sister was up to, she pounced onto Tatiana's bed. "Hey, stinkface!" she shouted. "How do you feel?"

"Shvibzik! Don't do that!" Olga admonished, but it was clear that her scolding came through bouts of stifled laughter.

The Doctor grinned to himself at the episode as he shut the door.

.

A/N: Some dialogue in this chapter is borrowed directly from Lili Dehn's "The Real Tsaritsa." I'd recommend reading that section (Revolution, Chapter Two) if you want to see what Alexandra's immediate reaction to her husband's abdication was. In reality, the troops deserting occurred a day before the news of the abdication reached her, but I combined the two because I felt like writing in an extra day of filler would be boring. I hope a tiny bit of history-altering is allowed in that case. :P

The question of Lili Dehn's English fluency plagued me a bit in this chapter. According to Anna Vyrubova, Lili Dehn didn't speak English at all during her time in the palace. But then I read in "The Resurrection of the Romanovs" that when she met Anna Anderson, the most famous woman who claimed to be Anastasia, that she spoke to her in English. This was decades later, however, so she could have learned in the meantime. So, I don't know if it's actually right to say that Alexandra would be shocked that her lady-in-waiting understood English, but, going off what I have, I hope it's correct.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: July 16 is the 95th anniversary of the Romanov family's last day on Earth. I don't bring this up to be a downer – although it is something to reflect on – conversely, I always find it so amazing that they were alive less than a hundred years ago. It might seem like forever ago, but compared to the rest of history, it was practically yesterday.

Chapter Six

_Hair is grey and the fires are burning  
So many dreams on the shelf  
You say "I wanted you to be proud of me"  
I always wanted that myself…  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
When you gonna love you as much as I do?  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
'Cause things are gonna change so fast  
All the white horses are still in bed  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that "Things change, my dear."  
_ - Tori Amos, **Winter**

"It was another week before I thought I might get the chance to leave again," the Doctor recalled. "Entirely dreadful, being in one place for a week, even if it was a palace. Especially in light of what had happened. The Empress didn't want to tell her children until the Tsar returned, which hadn't yet been allowed, so everything was very secretive."

…

"Where have all the soldiers gone, Doctor?" Tatiana asked as the Doctor poured medicine out for her.

The Doctor held up a piece of paper which said "I don't know."

"Well isn't there a newspaper around that we could read?" she continued.

The Doctor scribbled "No, sorry" on the other side.

"Last I heard before I fell ill was that there were some disturbances in Petrograd. Have our soldiers been called away to deal with that?"

The Doctor held up the "I don't know" side of the paper again.

"But you were the last person here to come from the city, surely you must know something," Tatiana protested.

The Doctor gave her a frustrated look. "Why does the person who needs every answer written down ask the most questions?" he said with exasperation.

From her bed in the corner, Anastasia giggled. She became more serious, however, as Dr. Botkin approached her bedside. "Will Tatiana be able to hear again?" she asked. The youngest Grand Duchess had been using her humor to distract the others from the gravity of Tatiana's situation, but the tone in her voice betrayed her true worry.

"Once the abscesses disappear, I think there is a good chance," Dr. Botkin replied. "You'll just have to be patient with your sister."

Anastasia looked slightly relieved, but still mumbled, "I'd hate for her to never be able to play the piano again."

"Well, you know, Grand Duchess, Beethoven continued to write and play music after he went deaf," Botkin reminded.

"Yes, and what fun he had!" the Doctor called from his position next to Tatiana's bed. "You should have seen him lying on the floor at the theatre, trying to determine which spot he could best feel vibrations in…"

"I don't remember ever reading that about him," Dr. Botkin commented.

"Well, you didn't know him like I did," the Doctor smiled.

Anastasia laughed at this exchange. Botkin attempted to silence her with a spoonful of medicine.

"Not that filth!" she protested. "It's awful!"

"Now, Grand Duchess, it's not that bad…" Botkin said. His patient was now actively recoiling from the spoon.

The Doctor walked over to her bedside and reached into his pocket. "Some jelly babies will help with the taste," he offered. Anastasia eagerly grabbed for them.

"Anastasia, you shouldn't be having sweets while you're sick," Olga protested, though her sister paid no heed. She had been eying the entire exchange peculiarly. "What sort of Doctor are you anyway, to give those out?" she asked.

"The good kind!" Anastasia replied for him, happily chewing on the candies.

…

"The developments also began to bring out your mother's hysterical side," the Doctor narrated.

Hearing sniffles from the Empress's drawing room, the Doctor entered to see her sitting by a large fire. "Your Majesty, what's wrong?" he inquired.

"Oh, I'm just reading over something Grandmama told me once," Alexandra replied. She sat with a large stack of letters on the table next to her.

"Grandmama?" the Doctor wondered. He glanced over at the handwriting on the letters. "You mean Queen Victoria?" he asked.

Alexandra nodded, clutching the letter she read from. "She always gave me such good advice in my youth," she reminisced. "If only she were here now." Without warning, she grabbed about twenty more letters from the stack and threw them all onto the fire.

The Doctor jumped up. "No, no, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I am not naïve, Doctor," Alexandra answered. "They hate me here, just like Marie Antoinette." She gazed above her; the Doctor looked up to see the French queen's portrait ominously hanging on the wall. "Now that they've disposed of my husband, they'll try to prove I'm a spy. I have to burn all of my correspondence with anyone outside of Russia or they'll have my head too."

"But you aren't a spy," the Doctor reminded. He tried to disguise that he was quickly reading as many letters as he could with his eyes.

"I know that. But these people use my birth country against me. They use my friendship with a holy man against me," Alexandra complained. "I love Russia. I have been Russian for over twenty years." She lifted another letter off the table. "But here I am, talking about how I love Balmoral…"

"You have your letters to your grandmother as well?" the Doctor asked.

"Returned to me after she died," the Empress nodded. "A complete set." She gathered the rest of them in her hands.

"But Your Majesty!" the Doctor protested. "Think of the treasure these could be to historians!" After he'd said it, he realized that kind of thinking meant nothing to her.

"Historians?" Alexandra replied. "These are my private letters, Doctor. My life," she reminded. "And no one is going to use it against me." She heaved the rest of the letters into the flames.

…

"Worst, I think, was that Maria had also contracted the measles," the Doctor continued. "Just as all her siblings were recovering. And hers was a much worse case."

"She had double pneumonia on top of it," Anastasia recalled. "We had to put her on oxygen. It was dreadful."

"There were times when her situation seemed so bad," the Doctor recalled, "that I began to think maybe I'd only misread that the entire family was killed in 1918."

…

"It's all my fault," Alexandra sighed miserably, pacing around her drawing room. In light of Maria's illness, she was wearing her full wartime nurse's uniform. "Maria should be my healthiest child, with robust strength… I shouldn't have taken her outside in that weather. And for what? To talk to a bunch of soldiers that didn't care about us anyway."

A servant ran in suddenly, trying to stammer through the official protocol for palace visitors. Before he could get anything out, however, two soldiers entered the room behind him.

"General Kornilov," Alexandra greeted him coldly. The man had already been to the palace once before, shortly after the news of the Tsar's abdication, to make assessments of the family's situation.

"Alexandra Feodorovna," Kornilov replied. The servant's head sunk in the corner; he was clearly distressed by hearing his Empress addressed without her title. "Gather all the members of your suite here," he instructed. "I have an announcement for them."

Once the handful of maids, valets, ladies-in-waiting and other members of court were gathered, Kornilov continued. "Alexandra Feodorovna, I am here to place you and your children under arrest."

"What?" she exclaimed, extending a hand to a nearby chair to steady herself.

"The arrest is for your protection," Kornilov explained. "There are many different groups among the revolutionaries who are looking to seize power from the Provisional Government for their own ideas. One of the most violent of these is the Bolsheviks. If we place you under our arrest, they cannot harm you."

"But where will we go?" Alexandra protested. "And what of the Emperor?"

"Nicholas Romanov will be returned to Tsarskoye Selo tomorrow," Kornilov answered. Despite the news she was faced with, Alexandra seemed incredibly relieved to hear this. "And you will all remain here in the palace until your children are well. When that happens, you will be taken to Murmansk, where a British ship will transport you to England."

"England," Alexandra repeated, sounding reassured. She could not hide her relief at being safely away from those in the streets who were calling for her death.

"As for everyone else," Kornilov addressed to the room. "Whoever wishes to do so may leave, but be informed that upon choosing to go, you will never be allowed back." Murmurs broke out amongst those in the room. "Those who stay will be voluntarily placing themselves under the arrest of the Provisional Government along with the Romanov family."

A large proportion of those in the room stepped forward to leave. The Empress looked dismayed, but not surprised. They all had families and lives outside of the palace that they had been prevented from going back to.

"I will stay with the Empress," an old servant declared.

"As will I," said another. At their faithful voices, Alexandra smiled. She then looked over at the Doctor.

He placed a foot forward. Her expression turned to one of anguish. The Doctor felt terrible about abandoning the woman, with no way to tell her that her deathly ill child would be okay, and that she didn't really need him, and about just how much he didn't belong there. Sighing, he began to exit the room. Suddenly, however, the soldier accompanying Kornilov stopped him.

"You, sir, I do not recognize you amongst the personnel at the palace," he said.

"He has newly come to us," the Empress offered. "To help our other doctors with my children."

"Where are you from, Doctor?" the soldier asked. "How did you come to meet Alexandra Feodorovna? What is your name?"

"Uh…" the Doctor started, overwhelmed. "It's quite a long story, actually…"

The soldier was looking directly into the Doctor's eyes; he guessed that he probably saw the Rasputin connection just like everyone else. "Kornilov, I'd like to have this man's credentials looked into."

"I… I'm afraid I don't have anything with me," the Doctor interjected. "I arrived rather unexpectedly."

"But then how are we to know you are not any sort of spy?" the soldier asked. "Are you even from Russia?"

The Doctor didn't answer. In light of how much time he'd spent in the palace, he wasn't sure how much he could say.

"If we do not know, then you are suspect," the man shrugged simply. "And so we must keep you here."

The Doctor was surprised to hear Alexandra protest. "But General Kornilov, he has a life outside of Tsarskoye Selo. He has already been detained here far longer than he would like, I'm sure."

"I am sorry," Kornilov replied. "But that's how it must be."

…

"And just like that…" the Doctor narrated. "I was stuck there."

"_You _were put under house arrest?" Amy asked incredulously. "But couldn't you just use your psychic paper or something? Tell them you were Lenin, who knows, maybe they'd have believed it."

"Didn't have it back then, unfortunately," the Doctor answered.

"Sorry, your what?" Anastasia asked.

"Psychic paper!" the Doctor said, eager to show off one of his gadgets. He held it up to the Grand Duchess.

"You're the architect of the Eiffel Tower?" she asked, confused.

"Am I?" the Doctor asked, taking it back to inspect it. "Interesting choice. Anyway, the psychic paper lets you see what you want to see. Or, more accurately, what you need to see to let me do something. Instant, flexible identification."

"Really?" Anastasia asked, snatching the paper back from the Doctor's hands. "Do you have another one?"

The Doctor reclaimed it for himself. "No, shvibzik, I do not."

"Anyway, Doctor," Rory interrupted them. "How long were you stuck there?"

The Doctor put his head in his hands, squishing his cheeks into a deformed look. "Too long," he said through the warped face.

…

"We should check on Maria," Alexandra said simply once the soldiers had gone. They were silent for a while as they walked.

"Thank you for defending me to them," the Doctor offered. "You didn't have to do that."

Alexandra shrugged. "You have helped us; it was right to help you," she said simply. "And you obviously don't wish to stay here."

"It's not that," the Doctor interjected. He thought of a way to explain. "I just shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be involved in any of this."

"If you're worried about your credentials, you've already proven yourself an aid to my children," Alexandra reminded. "That is good enough."

The Doctor didn't answer, knowing there was no way of telling the Empress that she was not only a very important person but also had a life that ended in a very fixed point, and that he was the very worst person for her to come in close contact with.

"You never did answer the soldiers' question about where you're from," she commented.

"It's… quite complicated," the Doctor answered. "I spend most of my time traveling – wandering, really – from place to place. I'm not sure when I'll stop. This is the longest I've ever spent in one place, probably."

"A wanderer," Alexandra repeated. "Like Rasputin was. Seeking to educate and be enlightened wherever he went."

The Doctor smiled. "I guess I do have something in common with him, then."

…

"Alexandra broke the news of Nicholas's abdication to her children that night," said the Doctor.

"I couldn't believe what she was telling us was true," Anastasia recalled. "It didn't seem possible, for there to not be a Tsar anymore… And then we had to write it all down to tell Tatiana. It made it even worse."

"You were in better spirits the next day though," the Doctor pointed out.

"Well, of course we were," Anastasia smiled. "Papa was coming home."

…

"Papa! Papa!" the three girls shouted as they ran up to their father. They embraced him all at once, knocking him down onto a nearby couch.

"Alexei, careful," Tatiana admonished as the Tsarevitch ran over to join them.

"My dears, I'm glad to see you are all well," Nicholas said as he gave them all another hug and stood up.

"Maria is still sick," Alexei informed.

"I know, Alexei," Nicholas replied. "Your mother told me everything. We have to watch over her for a while."

"What about you, Papa?" Olga asked, rising to her feet and meeting her father's eyes. "How are you?"

The Doctor, who had been standing with a cluster of servants in the corner, saw clearly that the former Emperor's eyes betrayed how he felt. The Doctor glanced from a grand portrait hanging on the wall to the actual man below, amazed at how much more creased the Tsar's face was and how gray his hair had gotten. He looked entirely defeated, but of course he replied to his eldest daughter with "I am fine, my dear."

"Is it true what Monsieur Gilliard told me, Papa?" Alexei asked, sitting on the floor at his father's feet. "You're not Commander-in-Chief anymore?" The boy's sisters all looked uncomfortable at the question.

"Yes, Alexei," Nicholas nodded. "It's true." The boy looked down at the carpet. "But our soldiers fight on, Alexei," the Tsar reminded. "And so do their generals. They will be alright."

"I wanted to go to Stavka again," Alexei sulked. "It was such fun there."

"I know, Alyosha," Nicholas said. "But think of your sisters and your mother, who had to stay here when we went away. Now, we will never be apart again." The children smiled, comforted by this. From the corner, the Doctor swallowed – the Tsar had no idea how right he was.

The Empress entered the room, pushing in a wheelchair her friend Anna Vyrubova, who had also been recovering steadily.

"Oh, Your Majesty!" Anna cried, taking Nicholas's hand to kiss it. "How wonderful it is that God has brought you back to us!"

"I am relieved to see that you have improved as well as the children, Anna," Nicholas replied.

"Oh, but of course we all have, Your Majesty," Anna assured. "We have been sent a guardian to watch over us in this awful time."

From his corner, the Doctor began to feel uncomfortable. Anna Vyrubova had been one of Rasputin's most fervent supporters – even when Alexandra attempted to dissuade her from thinking that the Doctor was really the old monk come back, she merely brushed the words aside.

"Really?" the Tsar asked. "And who is this?"

Anna looked up at the Empress, surprised. "But, you haven't told him?" she said, puzzled.

Alexandra sighed and stepped forward. "Nicky, dear, I'd like you to meet the Doctor," she introduced, beckoning him over.

"Your Majesty, it is an honor," the Doctor said as he bowed before the man, barely hiding his excitement at meeting yet another great historical figure.

"Another doctor, Alix?" Nicholas asked hesitantly.

"He was brought here against his will by some of the revolutionaries," Alexandra explained. "Due to the fact that he resembles Our Friend." Nicholas gave his wife a wary look at the words. "But he has been so helpful to us over the last week, with the children and Anna so ill. I couldn't send him back out there to those angry mobs."

…

"The Tsar's attitude towards Rasputin has always been somewhat of a gray area," the Doctor explained to Amy and Rory. "He didn't want to get rid of him, for Alexei's sake, but it was clear that he wasn't very fond of him, either. Or at least not as much as his wife was, especially after she sent him letter after letter on what Rasputin thought the soldiers should do on the front. So seeing me there with the face of the man who had annoyed him for so long, and hearing those around him praise me…"

…

"And it is just as it was with Rasputin," Anna insisted. "His presence makes me calm and tells me I will be okay. Rasputin has always meant relief within these walls."

"Yes, he has," the Tsar agreed, looking into the Doctor's eyes. "His presence also always meant my family was in distress, however," he said curtly. Alexandra looked dismayed as her husband ignored the Doctor and walked over to a window. "I… think I'll go for a walk," Nicholas stated, as if in a fog. "Walking always does me good."

"We can't go outside, Papa," Anastasia piped up. Nicholas looked at her in disbelief. "I wanted to take the dogs for a run in the snow earlier. The new guards won't let us."

"But that's preposterous," Nicholas exclaimed. "The grounds belong to us."

"We'll get it sorted out," Alexandra ensured her husband.

…

It was a full half hour of negotiations with the guards before this was achieved. The family watched from the palace windows as the dethroned Tsar took his exercise – Alexandra, Anna and Lili in one room, while the children and the Doctor looked out from another.

"I'm sorry Papa doesn't seem to like you," Anastasia said solemnly to their involuntary companion.

"It's quite alright," the Doctor replied. "He wasn't expecting me. And if I wasn't forced to stay here, I would've been gone already."

"But you've only just gotten here," Anastasia protested, a dejected look crossing her face. Even before being under arrest, she and her sisters had lived very sheltered lives. A new person to befriend was extremely enticing to her. "Don't leave yet," she continued. "Once Papa sees how fun you are, he'll like you. I promise," she reassured, looking back out the window. "And if Papa is allowed in the yard, we should be soon too. You must see how nice it is."

"And I assume it will look even nicer in the spring when the flowers bloom?" the Doctor asked.

Anastasia paused. "But… surely we'll be in England by then?" she asked, confused. The Doctor, realizing he'd said too much, didn't answer. Luckily, the Grand Duchess's attention had already been diverted by something going on outdoors.

As Nicholas walked through the yard, a guard suddenly crossed his path. The Tsar stopped. Not wanting any conflict, he changed directions, only to be met by another guard blocking him there as well. Anastasia gasped as she watched. Her father was now surrounded by six guards who began pushing at him. "You can't go there, Mr. Colonel," they mocked, laughing at him. "Stand back when you are commanded, Mr. Colonel."

"How can they do that to Papa?" Alexei asked, angered by the sight. He ran out of the room to find his mother. Olga turned to sob into Tatiana's shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm truly amazed at all the follows this story is getting. I never expected so many people to be interested in a historical Doctor Who piece, especially one with little-to-no science fiction involved. You guys are awesome, thank you so much for reading :)

This is gonna sound strange here, but this chapter contains spoilers for Les Mis if you don't know the ending.

Chapter Seven

_So they went, years and years  
Like sisters, blanket girls  
Always there through that and this  
"There's nothing we cannot ever fix," I said  
Can't stop what's coming  
Can't stop what is on its way  
Bells and footfalls and soldiers and dolls…  
_ - Tori Amos, **Bells for Her**

"Maria recovered, but unfortunately it didn't change the fact that we were still stuck there," the Doctor continued, skipping ahead a few weeks in his narrative.

…

"But they promised us. Once the children were well, they'd take us to Murmansk, then to England," Alexandra protested. Her husband could merely shrug his shoulders.

"King George is wary about what would happen to his throne if he gave amnesty to two rulers whose country overthrew them," he replied.

"But he is your cousin, and mine too!" Alexandra reminded. "Doesn't he care at all about his family?"

Nicholas was at a loss for words. "Perhaps they'll let us move to Livadia."

"You've read your mother's and sisters' letters, they don't seem much freer down there," Alexandra reminded, eyeing a few of the many intrusive guards that had been stationed around the palace. With them inspecting the mail, it was lucky that they were able to get any letters from family at all.

"Look at this one, Papa!" Anastasia called from one of the room's windows. She and Tatiana were crowded around it, laughing. Outside, a soldier who during Imperial times would have been standing rigidly at attention was instead sleeping against a large column.

"Well, you can't expect him to stand there all day, can you?" Nicholas said jokingly. "Perhaps he would like something to read?"

Tatiana turned to look at the Doctor, who was sharing in their joke. "You know, it really is uncanny about your eyes, Doctor," she mused. The return of her hearing hadn't seemed to dull her curiosity any. "I can't get over how similar they are to Father Grigori's."

"I know!" said Maria. Still weak, she was reclining in a nearby chair, but this didn't seem to stop her from joining her sister in ogling. "They're almost as blue as mine."

"Girls, the Doctor is still our guest," Alexandra reminded. "It's rude to stare at him."

"You must be very proud of Olga then," Anastasia smirked. Olga sat alone in the corner, deliberately avoiding interaction with the Doctor.

…

"I still can't believe Olga was being so rude," Anastasia recalled.

"Well, you can't really blame her," the Doctor pointed out. "She's the only one really old enough to pay attention to how bad the war is and how much her parents are hated because of Rasputin, and then she sees her father distressed over a man that looks just like him. Plus, she was sick when your father abdicated, so for her, the news of it and my introduction were almost one in the same thing."

"Still, she didn't even want to give you a chance," Anastasia said.

"Well, she was upset," the Doctor said. "But I got both her and your father to come around eventually."

…

The Doctor walked up to Olga as she sat reading a book, cocking his head to eye the cover.

"Do you need something, sir?" Olga asked, only glancing up for a second from the pages.

"Ah, _Les Misérables_," the Doctor commented.

"Have you read it?" Olga asked.

"No, never," the Doctor answered. He grabbed the book from the Grand Duchess's hands and flipped through it. Olga had no time to protest before he handed it back. "Goodness, how tragic," the Doctor commented.

"Well, you're just getting that from the title," Olga said, not amused at what she viewed as a joke on the level of a small child.

"No, really," the Doctor insisted. "Almost every character in this story has a terribly sad ending! Even Javert, who is nothing more than a figure to loathe throughout the entire novel, is redeemed only to go and commit suicide…"

Olga gave the Doctor a strange look. "Are you mocking me?" she asked.

"Not at all," the Doctor replied. "It's quite wonderfully written, which explains why you've read it so many times."

Olga was again caught off-guard, but this time she was more curious than irked. "And how would you know that?" she inquired.

"Well, the edges of the pages are worn, but the inscription in the front has your name, so it probably wasn't read by anyone else," the Doctor explained. "Plus, it has notations throughout, in your writing."

Olga couldn't help but give a small smile as a response to the Doctor's cleverness. "I first read this as a homework assignment for Monsieur Gilliard," she explained. "It worked in that I learned a lot of French, but I also asked Papa what 'merde' meant."

The Doctor laughed. "Books are great for that. They teach you all of the fun things your parents don't want you to know," he smirked. Without another word, he turned to one of the many immense bookcases behind him. "There's lot of other great ones here too. How many have you read?"

"Me? You've been here a month, how many have _you _read?" Olga asked.

"This one's good," the Doctor said, barely turning to hand it to the Grand Duchess. "And this one. Oh, mustn't forget about this!" At this point, Olga was at a loss for words over the stream of books that were being steadily tossed onto the seat next to her.

…

"And what book did you have to read to win her father over, Harry Potter?" Amy teased as she listened to the story.

"Sorry, what?" Anastasia asked.

"Oh," Amy realized, "nothing."

"Now, Pond, you're not giving the man much credit," the Doctor interrupted.

"Well, sorry, but he did have his whole empire collapse," Amy replied.

"But he had still been the Tsar, he wasn't sheltered from his country's problems by any means," the Doctor pointed out. He turned to Anastasia. "Incredibly intelligent man, your father," he said with a smile. "It didn't take him long to get over his initial unease with me. Once he realized how much I knew about history and world affairs, we talked every day. Usually about whatever was in the paper, which itself was even out-of-date sometimes. The guards didn't seem to want their former leader to know too much about the current state of the country, lest he somehow try to seize power again. So he talked to me instead, as a replacement for the ministers and briefings he'd been cut off from."

"Spoilers," Amy commented.

"It was extremely hard," the Doctor agreed. "Not just to gauge what he would and wouldn't know… but the whole family. I was there with them for months. Knowing exactly the fate they were going to, and not being able to say a word…" He trailed off.

"But you were such a help to us, Doctor," Anastasia interjected. She turned to her guests. "They arrested Lili and Anna, and took them away. It seemed like every day, we were losing someone from our old lives. Everything was so different… and not to mention, boring! Not being able to leave, and with all of those guards around… the one blessing was having someone new to talk to."

"Yes," the Doctor nodded. "Everyone else was considered too dangerous to stay with the Imperial Family, whereas apparently I was too dangerous to leave."

"So what did you do then?" Rory asked, "For all that time?"

"Oh, lots of things!" the Doctor said cheerily.

…

The children had all bundled up to go out in the snow before it melted with the coming spring. Accompanied by their tutor Pierre Gilliard, a few sailors to make sure Alexei didn't hurt himself, Nicholas, and some others, what had started as simple fort building had turned into an all-out snowball fight.

The Doctor crouched behind a bush, looking for any signs of movement between the trees that he could hit with the snowball he held poised in his hand. Unbeknownst to him, however, Anastasia was creeping up from behind. Just before she reached him, cocking back the snowball in her own hand, she turned her head around.

"NOW!" she shouted.

As the Doctor swung around to react, all five Romanov children emerged from their hiding places, pelting him with snowballs of every size.

"Stop, stop!" the Doctor protested. The initial surprise had caused him to drop his only snowball, and he now held his scarf in front of him as a futile defense. "I'll give you all jelly babies if you stop!"

…

"Never should have promised that," the Doctor complained over Anastasia's laughter at recalling the story. "Your brother completely drained me of my supply."

"Ooh, speaking of them, do you have any?" Anastasia asked excitedly.

"No, I don't like jelly babies, jelly babies are rubbish," the Doctor replied grumpily. "I only like fish fingers and custard." Anastasia looked surprised and confused by this.

Amy leaned over to her. "This version of him is the _pickiest_ eater," she confided.

"What did you do once the snow melted?" Rory asked.

"Gardened," Anastasia replied. "A massive project. We even got some of the guards to help us with it. And at nights, Alexei would show films."

…

Anastasia scurried past the Doctor as they entered the large semi-circular hall, eager to take the seat closest to the projection screen which had been set up there. As it turned out, racing the Doctor for it wasn't necessary, as Alexei blocked the man's path as he strode towards the rest of the family.

"You have to pay admission to get into my theatre," Alexei reminded, puffing himself up as much as he could. Although he was tall for his age, he was no match for the Doctor. However, the man still played along.

"Admission?" the Doctor asked. He looked incredulously at the others who were already seated. "No one else had to pay admission," he protested.

"Family gets in free," Alexei asserted. "You, however…"

The Doctor looked as though he was going to resist for a moment, then sighed and reached into his coat pocket. He shook out two jelly babies into Alexei's outstretched hand.

"Just two?" Alexei asked.

"Yes, just two!" the Doctor replied. "Otherwise I won't be able to afford tomorrow night's admission!"

Alexei reluctantly accepted this and waved the Doctor on as he began chewing one of the candies. The Doctor shuffled his way over to the remaining empty seat, behind Anastasia in the second row of chairs.

"What are we watching tonight, Alexei?" Maria asked.

Alexei ran over to the projector and began looking through a box of film. "I don't know…" he admitted. "I think we've watched all the good ones." Most of the footage in his possession had been given to him by various dignitaries over the years as gifts. "What's this one, Papa?" he asked as he removed one of the videos.

Nicholas took it from him and inspected it. "Oh," he realized. "It's a newsreel. One of a few foreign ones my ministers sent to me a few years ago. I don't know how it ended up in here."

"Can we watch it?" Alexei asked eagerly.

Nicholas shrugged. "I suppose so."

A servant helped the Tsarevitch load the film onto the projector. After a few seconds' countdown, grainy images of soldiers on horseback filled the screen.

"WAR IN EUROPE!" A title card announced. The video switched to images of Kaiser Wilhelm II. "THE KAISER'S CONQUEST CONTINUES!" Another black-and-white card informed. As images of soldiers in trenches appeared on the screen, Alexandra began to protest.

"Nicky, I'm not sure this film is one Baby should be watching," she said.

"Now, now, dear, he was at Headquarters with me. He's seen soldiers far more real than these," Nicholas reminded.

"Look, it's our troops!" Alexei shouted eagerly as Russian soldiers appeared on the newsreel. The Grand Duchesses also voiced their excitement at the silent scene.

"RUSSIAN CASUALTIES INCREASE DRAMATICALLY" a card informed. The eager whispers of a few moments ago were now entirely gone. As the picture switched to one of soldiers lying motionless in a field, someone in the dark room gasped.

"ARMY SUPPLIES CRITICAL" read the next card. After that, stock footage of Nicholas greeting his generals was shown, but the children were less than eager to point out their father this time.

"WILL THE TSAR FACE REALITY?"

"Turn it off, enough!" Alexandra called, embarassed. The last card faded from the screen.

The family sat in silence in the dark room for a minute, everyone looking uncomfortably at their feet and hands.

"I… remember why they sent me the film now," Nicholas said meekly. His wife placed a hand on his arm, but like everyone else, was at a loss for words. Anastasia turned around in her seat to face the Doctor. In the darkness, he could just make out the plaintive expression on her face. He gave her a reassuring smile, and then stood up.

"I think we're all a bit tired of movies," he announced as he strode up to the projection screen. "And you know, we have this perfect backdrop here." He looked out at the faces of the dejected family, and met them with one of his wide, toothy grins. "How about a play?"

…

"You regretted suggesting that soon enough," Anastasia reminded.

"Yes, I know," the Doctor replied, a hint of displeasure more than evident in his voice.

"Why, what happened?" Rory asked.

"Well, my siblings and I had put on many plays for our parents, growing up," Anastasia explained to Amy and Rory. "But now we had a new person for our cast. So we had to do them all again, of course, and in perfect costume."

"So you had the Doctor play dress-up?" Amy laughed.

"Yes," the Doctor groaned, "Which I would like to say is only fun if you're doing it to blend in somewhere you're going."

"Oh, what did they have you do, now?" Amy asked, thoroughly amused.

"We're not discussing it," the Doctor stated.

"Oh, but Doctor, don't be modest," Anastasia said, bearing her old mischievous grin on her face. "You were the best Fairy Queen we ever had." Amy could no longer control her laughter.

"Oi, enough, enough!" the Doctor silenced. "Keep that up, and I won't tell you any more."

Anastasia gave another brief laugh, but then smiled at the Doctor in a more appreciative way, knowing he'd remembered the same incident she had.

"Above all, we were a family," she said simply. "For the first time, there was no business to do, no events to attend. We could just be ourselves, instead of being beacons for everyone. And there was nothing keeping us busy from each other," she smiled. "Well, except school."

"You managed classes under arrest?" Rory asked.

"Well, our French teacher stayed with us," Anastasia reminded. "And everyone else filled in the gaps. Mother taught religion and German, Father geography and history…"

"I'm surprised they didn't get you to teach that one, Doctor," Amy said.

"Oh, Father thought that was an excellent idea," Anastasia said. "But then my mother heard him telling us something about a spaceship crash starting the Great Fire of Rome…"

"Hey, it happened!" the Doctor protested. Anastasia merely rolled her eyes in amusement. "And anyway, it didn't matter that I couldn't be your history tutor. I just created a new class for you instead."

"Which was?" Amy asked. She still sat with the photo album on her lap, flipping through pictures of the family working on their massive garden.

"Astronomy, of course," the Doctor smiled.

The whole room jumped as Amy let out a sudden gasp.

"Amy, what's wrong?" Rory asked.

She was looking down at the photo album. "It's these pictures, they're… your heads are all shaved!" she said to Anastasia. "And you're photographed front and back. It looks like some sort of prisoner identification."

"Actually, those were taken by Monsieur Gilliard," Anastasia said, not looking affected at all by the pictures. Amy was surprised at her nonchalant response. "The medicine we were given for the measles made our hair fall out," Anastasia explained. "Well, mine and my sisters', anyway. If Alexei lost any, it wasn't as noticeable, but he had to do everything we did," she said with a laugh.

"You shaved your heads so it would all grow back in evenly, I guess?" Rory asked.

Anastasia nodded. "We were a little embarrassed about it at first, having no hair. But soon we realized it was quite fun to surprise everyone just by taking off our hats." Amy looked at the next picture in the album, which was of the four sisters smiling widely in the garden as they appeared to be doing just that. "It was a big joke for me especially, since we were shorn a few days before my sixteenth birthday," Anastasia continued. "The age when a girl was supposed to be 'out' in society, putting her hair up, going to balls…"

"So you actually _had_ to keep your hair down until then?" Amy asked.

"Oh yes," Anastasia answered. "It got so hot in the summer, you wouldn't believe how nice it was to just get rid of it all that year. I hated it."

The Doctor smiled at the Grand Duchess's words, remembering how the highlight of her birthday had been her father faux-announcing her to a nonexistent room of elegant nobility, and Anastasia removing her hat to "show off" her grown-up hairdo, flaunting her bald head at her family. He also remembered, however, seeing her sitting in front of a mirror just before her hair was cut off, tying the messy, thinned-out mass in an updo and sighing at the womanhood she would probably never be acknowledged for reaching. In addition, he remembered the look of happiness and gratitude on her face when the Doctor had agreed to be her dancing partner for her "coming out ball," twirling around the empty palace as Alexandra played the piano.

Anastasia caught the Doctor's eye as he reminisced. "So what if Olga got a full ball at the Livadia Palace and danced all night long?" she asked. "I think my sixteenth was far superior."

"I agree," the Doctor smiled.

Anastasia sighed. "My last birthday at home."

Hearing this, a sympathetic look came across Amy's face. "Was it?" she asked.

Anastasia nodded. "Two months after that, they took us away."

.

A/N: I just added in the scene with the newsreel as I went to upload this chapter, in a sudden burst of inspiration. Accordingly, I hope it's still good, as I obviously won't get as much of a chance to revise it. I basically made up a newsreel on World War I for that scene – not sure if real ones would be that critical of the Tsar, but I figured maybe there would be a chance if it came from a foreign country. And I think I remember reading somewhere that the family did watch newsreels sometimes. Unfortunately though, I can't find where now! Everything else should be accurate though – even the fact that the children's heads were shaved. You can find a lot of pictures of them under house arrest with no hair or very shot crew-cuts. Anastasia even wrote in a letter that a passing child once called her "uncle," thinking she was a man without any hair. Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed. :P


	8. Chapter 8

Response to Guest's review: Haha! I wrote the last chapter before I knew that Karen Gillan had shaved her hair off, but it is a funny coincidence.

Chapter Eight

_Go, go, go, go now  
Out of the nest, it's time  
Go, go, go now  
Circus girl without a safety net  
Here, here now, don't cry  
You raised your hand for the assignment  
Tuck those ribbons under your helmet, be a good soldier  
First my left foot, then my right behind the other  
Pantyhose running in the cold  
Mother, the car is here  
Somebody leave the light on…  
_ - Tori Amos, **Mother**

"It happened in early August, just as Alexei was turning thirteen," said Anastasia.

"Alexander Kerensky, the leader of the Russian provisional government, had visited the palace a few times and talked about finding somewhere safer to move the family to, farther away from radicals in the capital that wanted them dead," the Doctor continued.

"For the longest time we thought we would be going to Livadia, our summer home in the Crimea," Anastasia recalled. "A lot of our relatives were already being held there, and we loved it so much when we were girls. The war meant we hadn't been in years."

"Kerensky told the family they were going to be transferred to a safer part of Russia," the Doctor continued. "He gave them three days to pack and to choose which of their retinue would be coming with them."

"When he told us to pack warm clothes, we all became very sad, because it meant our destination wasn't Livadia," Anastasia said. "It was so upsetting, running around not knowing where we were going or what we should take…" She let out a small laugh. "It seems so silly now, but I remember Papa telling those who were staying to take care of the garden, as if it mattered at a time like that."

"What about you, Doctor? Did you go?" Amy asked.

"I wasn't sure what was going to happen to me at first," he admitted. "No one was."

…

The family sat huddled in the palace's entrance hall in the middle of the night, surrounded by several large trunks. They were finishing up their last-minute packing and awaiting their mysterious, and seemingly perpetually delayed, transport.

"But of course you'll be coming with us," Maria insisted to the Doctor. "They already won't let you leave. And you've been with us since all of this started."

Her older sister, however, held a less optimistic view. "Hopefully you're right, Maria, but everything's different now," Tatiana reminded. "None of us could leave either, and now we're all being forced out." She paused to look nostalgically at her surroundings before brushing the thoughts away and rising to her feet. "But come now. We need to finish packing," she asserted. The situation had brought out her natural habit of taking charge of her siblings. She motioned for Maria and Alexei to follow her. Off in the next room, Anastasia was busy trying to wrangle her dog into staying put.

"Doctor, my good fellow," Nicholas began as he, his wife and the Doctor sat alone in the dark room. "I know the children are quite fond of you, but I also know that staying here for the last five months was not your decision. Let me ask you frankly: if they allow it, would you like to remain here instead of going on with us?"

"Nicky," Alexandra started. "We will need doctors with us, for Baby." In lieu of Rasputin, the Doctor had become the reassuring presence in her life, even though this view hadn't been tested by a hemophiliac episode from the Tsarevitch.

"We have Derevenko and Botkin, Alix. This poor man shouldn't be detained any longer than necessary," Nicholas reminded. He turned back to the Doctor. "Well?"

"Unfortunately, even if I did decide it, there's no way of knowing if I'd be allowed to simply go free," the Doctor admitted. "I could be arrested if I tried to do so." Nearly everyone with a connection to Nicholas and Alexandra had been questioned relentlessly by the new government on their patriotism. Anna Vyrubova, due to her association with the Mad Monk, was still in prison.

"But that is what you would like, if you could?" Nicholas asked. "To go free?"

The Doctor hesitated. As much as he knew he didn't belong with the family, he had surprised himself by growing to enjoy the last few months of the slow life. These people would never understand how he had other universes, other times, and other adventures to get back to… but beyond even that complication, the Doctor felt a terrible sinking feeling about leaving them to die. His stomach twisted as he knew what he had to do. "Your Majesty…" he began.

He was interrupted quickly by the sight of Grand Duchess Olga struggling to drag an extremely cumbersome-looking trunk into the hall.

"There you are, dear," Nicholas said, noting his daughter's long absence. He got up to help her carry the trunk to where the other baggage was sitting.

"What in the world do you have in there?" The Doctor asked, noting that even the Tsar was struggling with the container.

"Books," Olga answered as they finally set it down. She smiled at the Doctor. "All your recommendations."

The Doctor smiled back. "I hope you enjoy every one of them, Your Highness."

"Oh, Papa, haven't we told him to stop doing that?" Olga asked. "It's embarrassing. We don't need all the formality, especially between friends."

"Whatever you say, Olga," the Doctor agreed. "But it is my pleasure to do it."

Olga gave the Doctor a wistful look. Clever girl that she was, the Doctor knew that she had picked up on the fact that he was preparing to say his goodbyes.

"Doctor," the Empress started, the same look in her eyes. "I want to thank you for everything you have done for us. I'm sorry you were detained here so long."

"Don't worry on it, Your Majesty," the Doctor answered with a reassuring smile. "I've enjoyed my time here thoroughly."

He was about to get up from where they sat to resume his conversation with the Tsar when Alexandra suddenly gave a loud sigh. Frustrated, she put down the knitting she had been occupying herself with. "I can't keep my fingers steady," she admitted. "What will happen to us, Doctor? It's terrible for the children to be kept shut up like this." Her voice started to break as she looked over at her eldest daughter engaged in conversation with her husband. "If it wasn't for that war, Olga and Tatiana would be in some other country by now. Married, far away from all this." She took out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. "If I'd let them, that is," she admitted. "I don't know if I could do it if faced with it. Twenty-two years ago I was a child myself. In love, yes, but scared. I had no idea what to do in a new country, in a new role. It was all so quick… no one expected Nicky's father to die so young. Twenty-two years ago was when I had Olga," she realized. "Yet I still think of her as a girl. Even Maria was proposed to, but we said no, even though she was already seventeen then. I… I should have let them grow up more."

The Doctor placed a hand on the Empress's shoulder to comfort her. "But you raised your children," he reminded. "Most women in your position would just leave them to a Nanny and go out to balls every night."

"And perhaps if I had done that, we wouldn't be in this mess either," Alexandra said, her tears returning afresh. "Nicky and I, we tried our best, but we didn't do what the other rulers had." She gave another helpless sigh. "God knows we've tried, and prayed… but maybe we just didn't really know what to do," The Doctor was surprised to hear a woman who was usually condemned for being too naïve speaking with such awareness.

Alexandra dried her eyes one last time. "It's no use," she said, finally removing her knitting needles from her project. "I'm sorry it's not finished, but here you are."

The Doctor was surprised to see her handing a long creation of multicolored yarn to him. "For me?" he asked.

"A new scarf," the Empress affirmed. "Yours is getting quite worn out, and I thought, if you were going with us, you'd need something warm too..."

As the Doctor struggled to utter his bewildered thanks, Nicholas and Olga suddenly rose to their feet, and Alexandra rushed to compose herself. Kerensky had entered the hall.

"Gather everyone," he instructed. "It is time."

…

"Actually it wasn't time," the Doctor recalled. "The luggage was all carried away, but the rail workers hated Nicholas and refused to bring a train in to him. So we continued to sit there for the rest of the night, waiting."

…

Anastasia was seated next to the Doctor, her sleepless eyes ridden with anxiety as she clutched her dog Jemmy furiously to her chest. "I've lived here all my life," she realized. "Where do you suppose I'll live now?"

The Doctor paused. "I… I'm sure it'll be alright, Grand Duchess. They said they were taking you somewhere safe." He felt terrible knowing that he was lying to her.

"None of that," she said, shaking her finger at the Doctor upon his use of her title.

He smiled. With the other Grand Duchesses, the Doctor could usually continue to address them formally even after they'd politely stated that it wasn't necessary. With Anastasia, however, such tricks were impossible under fear of retribution. "Alright, Anastasia," he conceded.

"Much better," she said approvingly, before returning her thoughts to their future. "Well, at least a change of scenery will be nice," she hoped. "We've pretty much run out of things to do here."

"Yes, it has been getting a bit stale lately," the Doctor joked.

Anastasia suddenly giggled. "Remember when we thought we'd finally run out of plays and films to put on in front of that screen?" she asked. "We were all so dismayed, but then Alexei just ran up and started making shadow puppets. Suddenly we had new movies."

The Doctor nodded. "Your brother is quite creative, Nastya," he noted. "I hope wherever they take you feeds that spirit."

"Oh, you can't stop Alexei from being Alexei," Anastasia assured. They looked over at the boy, dozing off next to his sister Tatiana, who protectively held her arm around him so he wouldn't slip backwards and hit his head on the marble floor. With her hair only grown back to about a crew cut's length, the resemblance between the second-oldest Grand Duchess and her brother was even more noticeable. "The only time that happens is when he's sick," Anastasia noted glumly.

"Well, didn't Father Grigori say he would start to get better once he became a teenager?" the Doctor asked. "Perhaps it will be true."

"Perhaps," Anastasia said, though the tone of her voice didn't indicate any increase in hope.

At that moment, the sounds of car engines could be heard coming up the drive. Kerensky and the other officers lined up. "Your transport to the train station is here," Kerensky announced. "From there, Colonel Kobylinsky and his men will escort you on your journey to Tobolsk."

Murmurs and gasps could be heard throughout the room at the mention of the destination. Cold and remote, it was in the heart of Siberia. Many of the servants now bore dismayed faces, losing their hope that the Tsar would ever return from such a place.

"And sir," one of the palace retinue asked. "How long will the Imperial family have to remain in Tobolsk?"

"Don't worry," Kerensky reassured him. "This move is purely for their protection until the situation in the capital has calmed down. When the government is more stable, they will be free to return here or to go wherever they wish."

The Doctor felt pity for the misguided man. Not only would the government spend the next year getting less stable instead of more, but he himself would be a victim of it.

"Now," Kerensky concluded. "Say your goodbyes and make your way to the cars."

The five children began running around to all of the servants they had, shaking hands and exchanging hugs. Anastasia and Alexei, renewing some of their vigor after the tiring night, even began to joke around by giving tearful goodbyes to nearby statues.

As this went on, Kerensky approached the Doctor. The problem of what to do about the strange man in the scarf had been continuously plaguing him since his first visit to the palace. His apparent absence of any sort of record made him simultaneously innocent and dangerous. Kerensky's government had already been almost overthrown a month prior; the last thing he needed was to set free someone who could potentially organize another coup. At the same time, however, the Doctor's uncertain nationality made Kerensky wary of sending him away with the Imperial Family. If it turned out that he was a dignitary of an important ally – or worse, enemy – then he himself would face huge backlash for exiling the man off to a land of unending winter.

"Doctor, your presence in this palace has always been one of question," Kerensky began. "I think now, in light of the family being transported, it is the best time to end your detainment."

"So, I am free to go?" the Doctor asked.

Kerensky nodded. "You cannot remain in the palace," he enforced, still under suspicion that the man could be a spy either for or against the monarchy. "Members of our guard will escort you out of Tsarskoye Selo. From there, you can find your way back to wherever it is you call home." Kerensky mused to himself that with the hostility in Petrograd, the Doctor probably wouldn't get far with Rasputin's face anyway. The problem would take care of itself. He motioned to a soldier to come stand guard by the Doctor until the family left.

Anastasia stopped as she looked over to see the man looming restrictively over the Doctor. "But where are you taking him?" she cried. "He must come with us!"

"Really?" the guard asked. "And why is that?"

…

Anastasia sighed as she recalled the story. "The only thing I could think of saying was 'He's my friend.' They would have all laughed at me, those brutes," she said bitterly. "So I said nothing."

…

The five children looked with dismay at the Doctor as they realized that yet another sympathetic soul was being removed from their company. Alexandra tried to argue with Kerensky, but Nicholas, knowing what was best for the Doctor, stopped her. He looked over at the Doctor and nodded, wordlessly saying his goodbye. The Doctor gave a salute as Nicholas exited the palace, which the former Tsar returned warmly.

Fatalistically, the children began to file out. Anastasia still protested, however. A guard pushed her back as she attempted to make her way to the Doctor, her hold on Jemmy preventing her from slipping past him.

"At least let me say goodbye," she pleaded sadly.

"Go to the car," the guard simply ordered. Anastasia looked at the Doctor with watery eyes as she walked.

"Goodbye, Nastya," the Doctor said. The only reply was a sharp "No talking to the prisoners!" order. He stood in the hall a few moments, the silence broken only by the occasional sobs of one of the palace staff who had been left behind. Soon, the cars started up. No one said a word until the noise of their motors faded away. Outside, it was sunrise.

.

A/N: Not the last chapter, don't worry! I still have a few more left. :)

Alexandra is usually said to have been very stubborn and always convinced of the correctness of her actions, so the scene in this chapter where she begins to question herself may seem a bit out-of-character for those familiar with her. However, I included it anyway because I don't think there's anyone in history who has ever been completely sure of themselves, even if they seem like they are on the outside. And a two-dimensional portrayal of her as a headstrong and rash woman who destroyed an entire empire – which the history books usually treat her with – would have been boring, anyway.

Interestingly, the bit in this chapter's dialogue about Rasputin predicting that Alexei's hemophilia would get better when he got older is something he actually did say. And, to make it even more intriguing, I discovered when I was doing research for my thesis project that the type of hemophilia Alexei had actually _does _decrease in severity after the afflicted male reaches puberty – even though without modern science, Rasputin would have had no way of knowing that. At the same time however, Alexei had a few distant cousins who also inherited Queen Victoria's hemophilia gene who died as adults from the disease, so it's unfortunately impossible to say what Alexei's health really would have been like if he lived to adulthood. I just thought it was interesting to share.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

_In and out on this same path that I followed for years  
Can't I just look around and ask how could we still end up here?  
I can't just hold tight, wait for them to cut us to ribbons  
If the sharpest thing where you come from is a blade of grass  
Oh, take me with you  
I don't need shoes to follow  
Bare feet running with you  
Somewhere the rainbow ends, my dear  
_ - Tori Amos, **Take Me With You**

"So… how was it?" Amy asked. "In Siberia?"

Anastasia shrugged. "Fine at first. The house they held us in was terribly cramped for us and our staff, but at least it was a change of scenery," she recalled. "Soon, however, we weren't allowed out of the yard. Everything started to change. Suddenly the people Kerensky had said were our biggest threat were the ones in power. There were new guards, new rules… They made us destroy the snow mound we'd built to sled down in the yard, just because we could use it to look over the fence," she continued. "And Alexei got so mad about it that he started riding his sled indoors, and he of course hurt himself. Then they came to take Papa away in the middle of it all, so Mama had to decide whether to go with him or stay with Alexei."

"Where were they taking him to?" asked Amy.

"We thought Moscow, to be put on trial," Anastasia answered. "Instead he, my mother, and Maria ended up in an even smaller house in Ekaterinberg. The rest of us were transferred there once Alexei got better. From then on, we were only allowed outside an hour each day, and the windows were painted over so we couldn't see out." The Grand Duchess looked down at her feet. "Those days were the worst," she said meekly.

"And how long were you there?" Rory asked.

"About two months," Anastasia replied. "They killed us in July 1918."

"Us?" Rory said, surprised.

"Sorry," Anastasia corrected. "It's hard to separate myself from them when I think back to that time. We had all been one unit for so long."

"It must've been hard to leave," Amy commented. "When did you?" she turned to the Doctor. "_How_ did you?"

The Doctor sat up straight to begin. "I got back to the TARDIS. She was a little ticked off at me for leaving her so long, but otherwise fine. I tried to just focus on something else, set a course for one of the many places I'd spent the past five months dreaming about seeing… but I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd just experienced," he said. "Not only just feeling sad about getting to know a family and then watching them ride off towards their execution, but trying to wrap my head around it too." He stroked his fingers through his hair. "You see, starting in 1918, the Soviet Union was obsessed with secrecy," he continued. "It wasn't until the end of the 20th century that many details of things that had happened at its _beginning_ were even known. And in the case of the Romanov murders, declassification didn't necessarily make what had happened any clearer."

"What do you mean?" Amy asked.

"There were so many varying accounts of the execution, and stories about the aftermath," the Doctor explained. "Several members of the firing squad stated that at least one of the Grand Duchesses survived it, which is what led so many women to be able to claim they were Anastasia and suddenly find themselves embraced by European royal elites. When the family's bodies were finally found, two of the children were missing," he continued. "I spent weeks reading and reading all that I could, but there were still so many details I just couldn't understand. So, in perhaps not in my best judgment, I decided I needed to find out for myself."

"You what?" Amy exclaimed, all too familiar with the Doctor's rules about timeline interference.

"From a safe distance, of course," the Doctor protested. "Except, I guess the TARDIS was still mad at me over my last visit to Russia, because she had other ideas."

"Oh yes?" Amy asked.

"I ended up materializing right in the hallway of the Ipatiev House where the family was being held," the Doctor continued.

"That doesn't sound good," Rory commented.

"It wasn't," the Doctor replied.

Anastasia took over the narration. "Normally, we four slept in one room, while our parents and Alexei slept in the next one over. On that night, however, Alexei had decided he wanted to sleep with us for a change. I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but on my way, I heard the voices of the guards coming from downstairs. They… they were talking about killing us," she said, a hint of trauma still evident in her voice. "I ran to my parents. We were frantic, trying to figure out what to do, but we knew there was no way out. And then, all of a sudden… we heard that noise."

…

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS doors as she finished landing, a look of extreme disappointment on his face. "Now, this can't be right," he muttered to himself. He stepped out and walked down the hall, waving his sonic screwdriver around to try and pick up anything that could give him a clue as to where he was.

"What was that?" Alexandra whispered fearfully in the dark bedroom. Anastasia clung tightly to her mother's waist, her fingernails nearly ripping through the woman's nightgown as she clenched her hands in fear.

"Mama, what will they do to us?" Anastasia whimpered.

"Shh," Nicholas admonished. "I'll go out and see what it was."

"But Papa!" Anastasia protested.

"It'll be alright, malenkaya," he said, reassuring his daughter with her childhood nickname of "little one." Nicholas stood up straight, putting on the same stern face he used with soldiers on the warfront. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

The Doctor whirled around at the sound of the door creaking open, and nearly dropped his sonic screwdriver when he saw the former Tsar standing there in pajamas. "Oh, no," he stammered.

"Doctor!" Nicholas exclaimed. "How on Earth did you…?"

"Your Majesty, I shouldn't be here, I…" the Doctor started.

"Get in here, quick!" Nicholas ordered. The Doctor reluctantly followed him into the room.

Inside, Alexandra and her daughter sat on the bed, wearing the same dumbfounded look as Nicholas had a minute earlier.

"I guess not all of those rescue attempts were fraudulent," the Tsar commented.

"Doctor, you've come back for us!" Anastasia exclaimed, rushing forwards to hug her old friend. His heart sank at the action.

"Anastasia, be quiet," Alexandra admonished in a hushed voice. "We can't let them know he's here."

Nicholas turned to the Doctor. "I haven't even time to ask you how you got here, Doctor. We need to get out. Urgently."

"Your Majesty, I don't think I-" the Doctor started.

"Anastasia has just overheard the guards talking about some plan to get us all together and shoot us," he explained. "I don't know if it's real, or just them blowing off steam, but we can't take chances."

The three Romanovs waited silently for the Doctor to detail some escape plan. Their anxiety grew every second as he struggled for words. Finally, he bowed his head.

"Nicholas," he said solemnly. "I'm sorry, but I can't get you out of here."

"What?" the Tsar asked. "Why not?"

The Doctor again didn't know what to say. As they began to hear movement through the floor below them, his mind shifted to making his way out of the House of Special Purpose as soon as possible. "You won't understand," he began, "It is not in my power to rescue you."

"It's not in theirs either!" Nicholas shot back, his voice now tinged with so much anger that his words came out as more of a bark. "Execution without a trial? That practice is barbaric!"

"Your Majesty…" the Doctor began. "I…" he trailed off as he saw the confused, frightened and angry faces around them. He sighed as he realized he had no idea what to do.

Suddenly, Alexandra rose to her feet and met the Doctor's eyes. "You say you do not have the power to rescue us, Doctor," she said. "Am I to understand that you are not capable of transporting a large group?"

The Doctor paused. Of course, he had actually been referring to the consequences of altering important historical events, but how was he to tell her that?

Alexandra sighed. "Well, it is God's will to bestow proper judgment on us."

"Mama?" Anastasia asked, her voice breaking.

"But whatever happens tonight, the children do_ not _deserve it," she said firmly. "They have had no part in the government and they've deserved none of this imprisonment. And now are their lives to end before they've even had the chance to live them?"

The Doctor sighed to himself. He agreed with what the Tsaritsa was saying, but it still didn't mean he could change history. With the amount of armed guards about to make their way upstairs, he wasn't even sure he could manage to do so if he tried. "T-there's no time…" he stammered.

Alexandra grabbed her daughter's hand. "At least take Anastasia."

"Mama, no!" the girl gasped. "I'm not leaving all of you!"

"Oh, my darling," Alexandra cried, embracing her tight. "We will always be with you. But you have to go on, for us." She looked up at the Doctor, tears now in her eyes. "Please," she begged him. "I don't care how coincidental you think our meeting was, Doctor. I believe there was a reason for it, and it's the same reason you're back here tonight. At least one of our children should get the chance to outlive this horror."

The Doctor took a deep breath, internally cursing himself for getting so involved and for what he was about to do. "Alright," he said softly.

"Thank you!" Alexandra cried. She gave her daughter a last hug. "Go, my dear," she said, pushing her forward. "God will protect you."

"But…" before Anastasia could protest further, her father was embracing her as well. Helpless, she cried into his shoulder. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, malenkaya," Nicholas answered. "Be strong for us."

The Doctor grabbed the Grand Duchess's hand before he changed his mind. "Come on," he instructed. Anastasia barely had time to look back into the room as they dashed out into the hall.

"You!" the voice of a guard came from behind them. Two men had come up the stairs to wake the family. "Halt!"

"Run!" the Doctor said to the young girl as he squeezed her hand tighter.

"To where?" she asked breathlessly. She knew the hallway would eventually only loop them around to face more guards. And besides that obstacle, she noticed, suddenly there was some sort of blue box blocking their path. She wondered why she'd never noticed it sitting there before. To her surprise, the Doctor opened the door of it and led her inside.

Anastasia collapsed to the floor as soon as the doors were shut behind them. She could hear the knocking of the guards on the door, but the Doctor was ignoring that. Instead, he rushed over to a strange metal table, which seemed to be in the center of a great white room. Anastasia was confused – she didn't think the doorway to the box had looked this big when they ran inside it.

She looked down to realize she was still wearing her nightgown. "Am I dreaming?" she asked.

"Come out or we'll shoot!" came the cry of a guard from outside. Anastasia closed her eyes and covered her head with her hands as she heard the shot ring out. Soon, however, the sounds of yelling and shooting were replaced by the same strange whirring noise she and her parents had heard earlier. She felt like the room was spinning, but assumed it was a result of her nerves.

She didn't know how long she'd sat huddled on the floor before she heard footsteps approach her. "Open your eyes, Grand Duchess," the Doctor said.

Slowly, she obeyed. She saw the same friendly face of the Doctor looking down at her between a hat and scarf, though albeit it did seem to be tinged with sadness. She was still sitting on the same white floor in the same white room, though the cacophony of noise had eerily been replaced with silence.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where did the guards go?"

"They're far away now," the Doctor answered.

"They can't have just given up," Anastasia protested. "We're in a sealed box in the middle of the hallway." She looked around. "The hallway is… bigger than I thought it was," she commented. She shook her head to snap out of it. "Anyway, they'll find a way through."

"It's… more complicated than that, Grand Duchess," the Doctor continued.

"Oh would you stop calling me that!" she said angrily as she stood up. Her face was red from crying and her expression was one of total confusion. "I don't understand why you did this to me. You show up and make me leave my parents behind so we can sit in some strange box? Forget it! I need to be with them." She walked towards the door.

"You can open that door if you want, but you won't see your family," the Doctor admonished.

Anastasia stopped. "What do you mean?" she asked sadly.

"Anastasia, outside of that door is the planet Criylos in the year 6174."

The Grand Duchess just stared at him. "What is wrong with you?" she asked. She turned back to the door and opened it. Instantly, she held up her hand to block the sudden burst of bright light from the Criylosian sun. Before her stood an endless field of golden grass under a purple sky.

"But…" she stammered. "What-" Before she could utter another word, a small hovercraft swooped over the TARDIS, traveling at a speed faster than anything she'd ever seen. Startled, she shut the door again. She turned slowly to face the Doctor and stood silent for a minute, totally lost for words. The Doctor was about to say something reassuring when she screamed.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

"Anastasia, I…"

"Where are we, and where is my family?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, Anastasia, but I'm not playing any sort of trick on you," the Doctor said, holding his hands up as if to surrender. "Did you feel us moving a few minutes ago?"

Anastasia sniffled. "I thought I did…"

"That was us traveling here," the Doctor explained.

"Traveling? In a box? Through solid walls?" Anastasia asked incredulously. Her voice was breaking from the tears she could no longer control as a result of the bizarre situation. "And did you say something about a planet? Am I supposed to believe you have a rocketship?"

"No, Anastasia, I don't have a rocketship," the Doctor corrected gently. "I have a time machine."

"A… you what?"

"Remember how I used to talk about the distant past like I'd been there? Or the distant future as if I knew exactly what was going to happen?" The Doctor asked. "This is why."

"You travel through time," Anastasia said. Her tone was now one of sarcasm. "Our mystery Doctor could have come from anywhere, why not another year?" Suddenly, Anastasia gave him a piercing, angry look. "You had this way out the whole time, didn't you?" she asked. "And yet you just left us there to rot."

The Doctor wasn't sure how he could quickly explain why he'd had to do so. "I… I couldn't, it-"

"For months I sat in a hot room every day where I couldn't open the windows, doing absolutely nothing!" Anastasia yelled. "My greatest joy was helping the women who came to clean the floors! And the whole time, you could have taken me away?"

"Grand Duchess, I'm sorry."

Anastasia shook her head. "I thought you were our friend," she said sadly.

"But Anastasia, what would you have done if you were separated from them?" the Doctor asked. "If you were here with me, knowing the rest of your family was imprisoned like that?"

Anastasia sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to learn." She looked at the TARDIS's controls again. "How exactly do you _travel_ like this, anyway?" she asked.

"Have you noticed that this box is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside?" the Doctor asked.

"I didn't notice it at all until we were almost inside it," Anastasia said. "I just saw the hallway. How can that be?"

"Camouflage," the Doctor answered. "The TARDIS cannot be noticed unless you are specifically looking for it. It's also disguised as a British police box from the 1960s."

"The TARDIS?"

"Time and Relative Dimension in Space," the Doctor elaborated. "Welcome aboard it."

"Okay…" Anastasia said, figuring she didn't have much of a choice but to start believing what she was seeing. "And you camouflaged it as 1960s British police box?" she asked. "Did you realize you were in Russia in 1918?"

"Well, it's not perfect," the Doctor grumbled. "But it'll get you where you want to go."

"And I know where that is," Anastasia affirmed. "No more games. Take me back to my family," she ordered sternly.

The Doctor sighed. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Anastasia."

"And why not?" she shouted, striding up to him. She displayed the same firm body language her father always had when giving orders.

"The same reason I almost didn't take you," the Doctor answered. "Suppose I took the TARDIS back in time and let Napoleon win against Russia in 1812?"

"Why, if you did that, the whole world would be different," Anastasia protested.

"Exactly," the Doctor said. "Your father was the last Tsar of Russia. I can't change his fate, there would be consequences."

"His fate?" Anastasia asked, the hope disappearing from her eyes. The Doctor realized what he'd said. "What happened to them, after we left?" The Doctor was silent. "Don't just look at me like you always do when you don't want to answer," the Grand Duchess ordered. "They're my family and you're going to tell me."

The Doctor took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Anastasia," he said. "The guards killed them that night."

Anastasia's expression did not change as she heard the news, but slowly, tears began to well up in her eyes and roll down her cheeks. "All of them?" she said, her voice shaky.

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "They thought the danger of your father falling into the hands of someone who would try to restore him to the throne was too great."

Anastasia sobbed. "But why?" she asked futilely. "Why wouldn't they just let us leave, and go live in England or something?" The Doctor put his arms around her, trying any way he could to help a pain he knew would be immense. "Why did they have to kill us?" she said, her words muffled by his overcoat.

"I'm sorry, Anastasia," the Doctor said. "I'm so very sorry."

She pulled back from the embrace and looked up at him. "And what about me?" she sniffled. "I suppose I'm not important enough for anything to happen if my fate's changed?"

"On the contrary, Anastasia," the Doctor said. He met her eyes. "I told you, you are the most famous Romanov."

"You were just saying that to make me feel better," Anastasia said.

The Doctor shook his head. "No," he corrected. "It's true."

"And how am I that?" Anastasia asked incredulously.

"Because you lived on."

.

A/N: I'll be out of town next week, so the next chapter may take a little longer than usual. Apologies in advance.

I hope you liked this chapter. It was a little difficult to obtain a good balance of showing vs. telling, and also to keep people in character. Doing so in emotional scenes is hard enough for regular characters, yet alone people whose histories give them a few general characterizations, if that. I hope the end result is successful and believable.

As for historical notes in this chapter, Nicholas's line about fraudulent rescue attempts references a series of false letters sent to the family that were supposedly from a group trying to rescue them. In reality, it was just those who were guarding them attempting to make it look like they were trying to escape so that they'd have an excuse to kill them. But in waiting for supporters who weren't real, the Imperial family spent many nights in the Ipatiev house wide awake, fully clothed. The details of everything that happened while they were held at this location are unfortunately always going to be cloudy, since the guards destroyed almost everything belonging to the family in the aftermath of their murders, but there's always plenty out there to read about it if you're interested.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So sorry for the delay in updating! It won't happen again! (And won't really have the chance to, since there's only one chapter left after this one, actually)

Chapter Ten

_Hey, they found a body  
Not sure it was his, still they're using his name  
And she gave him shelter  
Somewhere I know she knows  
Somewhere I know she knows  
Some things only she knows.  
Past the mission, behind the prison tower…  
_ - Tori Amos, **Past The Mission**

"I'd realized something as I was standing there talking to her," the Doctor explained to Amy and Rory. "The cloister bells hadn't gone off. There wasn't any sign anywhere of something wrong as a result of what I'd done. Whether dead, or just whisked off to somewhere in the future, the Grand Duchess Anastasia was taken out of the timeline when she was supposed to be. So, as it turned out, maybe there was a reason for all those survivor legends and people pretending to be her – because it had really happened. And maybe it was _supposed _to happen. Maybe the great mystery of the lost Grand Duchess was me all along."

Amy met the Doctor's triumphant smirk with skepticism. "So you risked altering history for a hunch?"

"Hey, I'll have you know I have some pretty good hunches," the Doctor protested.

Amy rolled her eyes. "And apparently I wasn't the first person to enter the TARDIS in a nightie," she commented.

Anastasia giggled at this comment.

"Anyway," Amy continued, "If you rescuing Anastasia was part of the timeline all along, then why don't I remember seeing anything in the history books about a blue box whisking her away?"

"Well, by all accounts, the guards' handling of the family's execution was terrible. Nothing was done correctly," the Doctor informed. "Some people in the room survived the initial firing squad. There are stories from people who claimed they'd seen soldiers searching trains for one of the Grand Duchesses in the days following the murder. It's not too much of a stretch that one of the family members might have escaped before it even happened. But, that would have put those soldiers in quite a terrible position. So, maybe to avoid looking totally incompetent when they reported to the Kremlin, they all agreed to state that Anastasia had been there."

"Alright," Amy agreed. "But putting that all aside, you said there were two bodies missing from the grave. But they found those bodies a few years ago, like I told you. Everyone's accounted for. Explain how that happens, Raggedy Man."

"Ooh, 'Raggedy Man,' I quite like that," Anastasia commented. "Though, Doctor, she does have a point. How is that possible?"

The Doctor paused. "That I'm still not sure of myself, Grand Duchess," he answered.

The room was silent for a few moments. Amy, feeling a bit guilty for calling the Doctor out, was the one to break the ice again. She turned to Anastasia. "So, where was the first place you went?"

Anastasia shrugged. "Back home, actually."

…

Anastasia clasped her arms around herself as if she was cold, trying but failing to understand the TARDIS as the Doctor piloted it. "I don't belong here," she stated simply. "You have to take me back."

The Doctor stopped what he was doing and looked over at her. "You heard what your mother said to me," he reminded. "If I return you into the hands of those executioners, it will break her heart."

"Not there," Anastasia corrected. "Take me home. To the palace."

"Anastasia, it's not safe there," the Doctor reminded. "With all of the political upheaval, and you supposed to be in Ekaterinberg, you'd be imprisoned again in no time."

"Then take me to a year when it is safe," Anastasia protested. "We always had nicer winters when I was a girl anyway."

"Grand Duchess, I can't take you back on your own timeline either," the Doctor informed.

"You can't do what?" Anastasia asked, confused.

"Can you imagine how everyone would react if a second Anastasia showed up?" the Doctor explained. "And even if you promised you wouldn't, it would be difficult to resist telling your family about what was going to happen and trying to save them. Which, in turn, would create a paradox."

"Paradox?" the Grand Duchess asked. She was learning more in this short conversation than she had from her tutors in years.

"Say you tell your family what's going to happen, and so they escape to England just before the Revolution starts," the Doctor began. "Then, everyone survives. But then how did you ever experience the Revolution and house arrest that you came back to warn them about if you spent the rest of your life quietly in the countryside? Your family would be saved by something that never existed."

"I'm… not quite sure I understand all that," Anastasia admitted.

"Exactly," the Doctor concluded. "If that messes up your head, just think of what it'll do to the universe. Paradoxes are extremely unstable and should be avoided at all times."

"So… I can't go home," Anastasia concluded.

"Afraid not," the Doctor said as he flipped some switches on the console.

"But what am I supposed to do then?" the Grand Duchess asked hopelessly. "I'm only seventeen! I can't just go out on my own, not yet."

"Age is overrated," the Doctor commented. "I'm 749."

Anastasia glared at him. "You know what, this day has been strange enough already that I'm not even going to question that one," she gave up.

"And you won't be on your own," the Doctor reassured. "You've got me," he said, flashing one of his huge grins. "And we've got all of time and space to go see."

"But I don't know how to do anything!" Anastasia worried. "I'm a royal – we always had people to do things for us. Did you know for my last birthday I learned how to bake bread, and I was so excited by the novelty of it?" she asked. "I don't even know how money works, for God's sake."

"I don't either, really," the Doctor said enthusiastically. "Just making it up as I go along."

Anastasia turned to face him. "Really?" she asked. The Doctor nodded. Despite all of the grief she was feeling, Anastasia couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of her friend's comment. "I knew there was a reason I liked you," she said. "Oh, and if we do run into any money problems…" She bent down and grabbed the hem of her nightgown, which she proceeded to rip apart.

"What's your strategy, look poor and beg?" the Doctor asked.

"Not quite," Anastasia answered. She opened her hand to reveal a small cluster of jewels that she'd retrieved from the lining of her clothing. "Mother had us sew all of our jewelry into our outfits so the guards couldn't steal it from us. It's too bad I wasn't wearing my day dress – it weighed a ton from how many were in there."

"Might want to put those away for now," the Doctor advised. "We've landed."

"Landed?" Anastasia asked. "Landed where?"

"Where you wanted," the Doctor answered. "Your home. Outside of your own timeline, and I tried to pick a time where it was as deserted as possible so that hopefully no one will notice us."

Anastasia smiled warmly at the Doctor. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Though I must warn you," the Doctor admonished. "Deserted means the palace will not be in good shape when you see it."

Anastasia looked slightly taken aback, but retained her optimism as she headed to the door. "Well, how bad can it be?" she asked as she opened it.

Anastasia was completely silent as she stepped out onto the rotted, debris-ridden carpet in a room which was once one of her favorites. The Doctor followed her cautiously. She looked around to see that it was mostly empty of its former priceless décor, and what was left had either been smashed or was in terrible shape. A few empty wine bottles lay scattered on the floor, and picture frames hung empty on the walls, their canvas works of art ripped out.

"What happened?" was all the Grand Duchess could ask.

"Well, if I landed where I was aiming for, World War II," the Doctor replied. "The Nazi troops occupied this palace while trying to take the capital city."

"World War II?" Anastasia asked.

"Oh, right," the Doctor realized. "The war Russia was fighting under your father will later come to be known as World War I," he explained. "Because in the 1930s, another war started which was called World War II."

Anastasia nearly scoffed in surprise. "So… it happened _again_?" she asked. "After all of that fighting, all of those soldiers that died… just twenty years later?"

The Doctor nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so, Anastasia," he answered. "If there's one thing I've learned from all of my travels, it's that while mankind is admirable, it is also very prone to folly."

"But what they've done to this place," she said in disbelief. "It's destroyed. This was my home!"

"I know, Grand Duchess," the Doctor commented. "But it does get fixed up eventually. A hundred years from now, it'll be a nice little museum."

Anastasia turned to him, her eyes full of pain. "A nice little museum?" she asked. "This was my _life_, Doctor. First they destroy it, then they're going to put it on display?"

The Doctor instantly realized he'd made the same mistake with her as he had with the Empress a few months prior. Even though he now knew the Imperial family personally, he still fell into the trap of thinking of them as objects or case studies, while in front of him stood a living, breathing girl he had just risked the stability of time and space to rescue. Whether historically necessary or not, Anastasia's loss made no sense to her, and he was making it worse.

"Anastasia, I…" he began. Before he could finish, however, she took off for the staircase. "Where are you going?" the Doctor asked as he followed.

The Grand Duchess didn't stop until she reached the door of her old bedroom and went inside. Unlike the bottom floor of the palace, these rooms had been relatively untouched.

"They can turn my home into a museum, but they won't put everything on display," Anastasia said firmly. She walked over to a dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer, then pulled up what revealed to be a false bottom. "Mama wanted us to hide whatever could be used to make us seem unpatriotic," she explained. "Photos of trips to other countries, letters to German relatives…" She began pulling out large photo albums as she talked, stuffing them with loose letters that had been lying in the drawer. "We had to leave so many things behind before. I'm not leaving them again."

"Grand Duchess, we really should go," the Doctor admonished. He wasn't sure if any sort of security staff worked in the palace, and he thought he heard footsteps in the distance.

Anastasia nodded. She had now snatched a pillowcase from one of the beds and was proceeding to stuff books and photographs into it. She turned to look at her bedroom one last time, scanning from her windows, to her icons, to her and Maria's beds. "So much time has passed since I was last here. So much has changed," she mused. "And yet it's also somehow been less than a year."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to leave it on your own terms," the Doctor said.

Anastasia gave him a weak smile. "I do now." She turned once again to run over to a trunk in the corner. Rummaging quickly, she picked out the small cloth doll with the Russian costume. "Let's go," she said as she gathered her things in her hands.

As they walked out into the hall, however, the Doctor soon discovered that he had been right about footsteps. An elderly groundskeeper stood at the far end of the hall. The Doctor thought of making an excuse for why they were inside the palace, but the man's expression stopped him. He looked directly at Anastasia and made the sign of the cross.

"Right," the Doctor commented. "I think I can see where some of those survival rumors started. Back to the TARDIS."

Anastasia was still gazing out at the long, dilapidated halls of the palace when the Doctor shut the doors of the police box again. She sighed and looked down at her photo albums and diaries. "I still don't know how to be anything but a princess," she reminded.

"Oh, that's nonsense," the Doctor contradicted. "You know how to ride a horse, chop firewood, address soldiers, sew, play instruments… and don't forget how to make a young boy in pain forget how miserable he feels." Anastasia felt a little better at the Doctor's words. "And, of course, this new skill of bread-baking!" the Doctor reminded. "You may not believe it, Anastasia, but you have plenty of talents. And for everything else you don't know, you have all of time and space to learn."

Now Anastasia was smiling, comforted by the Doctor's encouragement. "Take me away from here," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Here it is guys, the final chapter. I hope you've all enjoyed this crazy project of mine. A lot of people have followed this story, and I've gotten a few reviews, but since this is the end, would anyone else out there like to give some feedback? You can review as a guest, I don't care. I'd just like some idea of how you've all felt about it.

Chapter Eleven

_Thought she deserved no less than she'd give  
Well happy birthday, her blood's on my hands  
It's kind of a shame, 'cause I did like that dress…  
It's funny, the things that you find in the rain  
The things that you find, yes  
In the mall and in the date mines  
In the knot still in her hair  
On the bus, I'm on my way down  
On my way down  
All the girls seem to be there…  
We'll see how brave you are, oh yes  
We'll see how fast you'll be running  
We'll see how brave you are  
Yes, Anastasia.  
_ - Tori Amos, **Yes, Anastasia**

The Doctor held his hands high above his head, stretching out after the long story. "And that's about it," he concluded. "Traveled around for a while, as per usual, 'til you found a planet you loved to settle on." The Doctor turned to Amy. "And there you are, Pond. The _real _story of Anastasia Romanov. Mystery solved."

"Well, not quite," Amy admitted.

"But that's what makes a mystery a good one!" the Doctor replied. "If you can figure out all the details, then it's just a rubbish mystery."

"Well," Rory commented. "I for one think today has been very…" he searched around to find the right words that would describe coming out of a three-day alien alcohol-induced coma to hear the story of a famous Russian princess. "…interesting," he finished.

"Yes," Amy agreed. "It was an honor to meet you, Grand Duchess," she said cordially.

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Haven't you learned by now not to do that?" she asked. "Call me Anastasia. Or Nastya, or Shvibzik."

Amy smiled. "Okay, Nastya," she agreed. "But you've noticed he doesn't stop calling you Grand Duchess." She pointed to the Doctor, incriminating him.

"Oh, he never does anything you tell him to," Anastasia said.

"Oi, neither of you are giving me much credit today, and I don't appreciate it," the Doctor retorted.

"Fine, Raggedy Man, then answer me something, since you're so smart," Anastasia declared. The Doctor cocked his head at her in curiosity. "When they found the bodies of my family, what did they do with them?" she asked.

"There was a state ceremony in St. Petersburg in 1998," the Doctor answered. "It's called St. Petersburg again. Petrograd and Leningrad just don't have the same ring."

"Take me to it," Anastasia said.

"Are you sure, Anastasia?" the Doctor asked, surprised by the request.

"Absolutely," the Grand Duchess answered. "It's only right of me to pay proper respects to my family." She turned to Amy and Rory. "I'm sorry if it might inconvenience you two, but perhaps you could just find something to do in the TARDIS during the trip?"

"Oh no, we're going," Amy declared. "I'm sure we can find funeral clothes somewhere in the wardrobe."

Anastasia turned back to the Doctor. "One last trip," she asked. "Please?"

The Doctor smiled. "Anything you wish, Grand Duchess."

…

The funeral service was a solemn event, but also a peaceful one. Romanov descendants, European nobility, politicians and ordinary citizens all gathered together to honor the last Tsar, his wife, and his children as they were finally laid to rest. As their caskets were blessed and interred, the procession bid a final farewell not only to the tragic family, but to their era and Empire as well. The Romanovs had been dead for eighty years, but a mournful sadness was still visible on the faces of many.

However, there was one young woman who came up to pay her respects that seemed to possess a sadness unlike that of anyone else in attendance. Many people found that they were watching her rather than the caskets in front of them. Her face seemed to express everything the funeral was symbolizing – the pain of loss, the end of a way of life, and the respect and sorrow for those being laid to rest – but it also reflected the closure that the event brought. She stood in front of the caskets longer than anyone else, seeming to say a prayer for every victim as she knelt. There was something indescribable about her which made it seem like she belonged at the ceremony more than anyone else in the room. Many stood wondering why such a young woman seemed to be affected the most and seemed to feel the most compassion towards the murdered family, and what exactly it was about her that seemed so familiar.

As the ceremony ended, she made her way out of the church, along with three others – one a man who had also somehow seemed personally touched by the service. Although the streets outside had changed very much since the last time the woman had seen them, and she'd never really walked them so much as been escorted by a procession, she and the others made their way quickly down them, back to a small blue box that no one else seemed to notice.

Amy turned to Anastasia before stepping inside. "Thank you for sharing your story with us, Nastya," she said. "It seems like the Doctor is always getting himself involved with some famous figure, but it's never been anything like this."

"Thank you, Amy," Anastasia answered. She looked at her new friend knowingly. "We're just lucky he keeps coming back for us."

Amy smiled. "Yeah," she agreed. "We are." She and Rory stepped inside and let the door shut behind them.

"Ready to go home?" the Doctor asked as Anastasia looked at the foreignly modern St. Petersburg streets.

"I suppose," she answered. Suddenly, she walked up to the Doctor and gave him a hug. "Thank you for bringing me here," she said.

"Of course, Shvibzik," the Doctor replied.

Anastasia took a step back and looked up at him. "I want to ask you one more thing, Doctor."

"And what's that, Grand Duchess?"

"Come back to my home at some point," she said. "After I'm gone."

The Doctor looked confused. "Anastasia, I…"

"I don't know if I'll have a family, or how I'll end up… but I want you to take my body."

"What?" the Doctor asked, shocked.

"Bring it to the woods, where they were buried," Anastasia asked. "It's terrible for them to have been piled together like that for so long, but it's even worse if I can't at least share it with them."

"Grand Duchess, you're asking me to bury you," the Doctor said, taken aback. "I'm not sure if I can do something like that."

"I'll write it in my will," Anastasia continued, determined. "At least some of my remains are to be claimed by you, to take to their grave." She looked into his eyes, the same eyes which had once caused her so much amazement and confusion – The same eyes in which she had found a friend and a savior. "Please," she begged. "I have to spend the rest of my life away from them. At least bury _some_ of me with them."

"Well, at least that would fit in with the findings," the Doctor commented, still troubled by her request. "They never did uncover a complete set of bones for anyone." He had planned to say more, but his words made him catch himself. Suddenly, it all made sense. He put his hand on the Grand Duchess's shoulder. "Yes, Anastasia," he promised. "I'll do it for you."

Anastasia gave him a look of absolute gratitude. "Thank you, Doctor," she said, hugging him again. "Thank you so much." She ran off into the TARDIS.

The Doctor could only stand and look at the streets again, this time a huge smile on his face. "It was me again," he realized. "It was me all along." The reason why every member of the Romanov family had been accounted for when the graves were finally uncovered was that he'd had decades by that point to bury the Grand Duchess with her family. Her remains would age and be exposed to the same elements as those of her brother, sisters, and parents. To the linear-time thinkers, it wouldn't seem like they'd ever been separated.

The Doctor laughed out loud at the simplicity of the whole thing. "Even the best mysteries," he said. Happily, he dashed off into the TARDIS, ready to set off on a new adventure.

THE END

A/N: So, I've mentioned in the notes for earlier chapters how this story literally has taken me five years to research, redevelop, and fine-tune. Well, over the course of those five years, I've gotten a few ideas here and there for the Doctor and Anastasia's further travels. The issue is, they're not totally structured, and some of the vignettes I've done aren't even complete. So, here's my question to you guys…

Would you like to see a sequel of sorts to this story? And if so, I see two options for how to do it. The first is to fine-tune the best of the scribblings I have, and present a probably short, but mostly complete sequel. The second is to try and find some inspiration for all of the unfinished and disconnected bits and figure out how they all go together, to get a larger narrative which connects the Anastasia freshly rescued from the Ipatiev house to the one that the Doctor takes Amy and Rory to visit. The problem with the second option is that it could potentially take me a very long time to get something like that done, and I don't know how long everyone would be willing to wait. So, please give me your opinion.

I hope everyone's enjoyed this story and likes the way it's ended! I know that forensically, if Anastasia was buried as an old woman, she couldn't have passed for the teenager that scientists identified when they analyzed the Romanov remains, but 1) it fits in with the story, dangit, and 2) When they did finally find the remains of the missing Grand Duchess (Anastasia or Maria, depending on whose conclusions you agree with), there was hardly any of her left, as much had been burned. So maybe if the Doctor took some ashes or something… Ugh, I'm not a scientist. I'm just hoping it's a passable enough explanation to tie all of this together. Goodbye for now. Thanks to all of you for reading!


End file.
